


Moving On

by BananaLoaf



Series: The Charline Series [2]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014), d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Female d'Artagnan - Freeform, Peril, Romance, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaLoaf/pseuds/BananaLoaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to 'Charline'. This takes the characters and the events of that story and takes it into a AU version of series two. Spoilers ahead!</p><p>Please read Charline first, or you won't be able to follow this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I guess we're back! I succumbed to requests for a sequel, so here we are. :)
> 
> I have no idea where I'm going with this yet, as I'll need to wait and see how Series 2 unfolds, but there will be adventure and romance ahead!
> 
> Hopefully you'll enjoy.  
> B x

D'Artagnan realised that she had been stupidly gaping at Treville for the last few minutes and clamped her mouth shut with a light squeal that she quickly covered with a cough. She felt Porthos chuckling beside her and refrained from elbowing him in the ribs. They were supposed to be looking serious and forlorn after all, she supposed. 

 

"Show some decorum, if you please, d’Artagnan,” Aramis murmured to her from her other side. She tried not to roll her eyes, and then fought to contain her smile as she felt Athos move behind her and punch Aramis lightly in the back.

 

"Eyes forward, mouths shut," he whispered behind them. There was a smile in the menacing tone of his voice.

 

She wanted to turn round and ask all of them how they could be so calm, how they could remain the soldiers they had always been when their captain was standing in front of them relaying the news he just had. She had thought, _they_ must have thought, that it would be years before this suggestion of peace was relayed to them.

 

She was back to gaping.

 

A moment later she realised that Treville had stopped addressing his troops and had disappeared into his office. The musketeers lined up in the yard had lowered their eyes from the balcony and were now talking animatedly around her. Now what? She had no idea what to do.

 

Luckily someone else seemed to. Porthos and Aramis both moved away from her and headed straight forward to their usual table, while a hand was pressed to her back and she was propelled forward to follow them. She slid into her seat at the back, Athos climbing in next to her. It had taken her an absurdly long time to realise that he always sat facing the yard, never trusting that they were safe. She supposed she had just been distracted enough by his presence to notice much else.

 

His thigh pressed tightly against hers and she dropped her hand below the table, grabbing for his and squeezing it tightly. She grinned at him happily, barely noticing that for once Aramis didn’t point out how obvious it was that both of their hands had disappeared, and any musketeer worth their salt would think something was weird about it. Glancing around the yard, d’Artagnan realised that today she could have sat on Athos’ lap and it was unlikely that anyone would notice. The few men who were still in the yard were huddled in small groups , no doubt having similar conversations to the one they were about to have.

 

“So...” Porthos began.

 

“Indeed,” Aramis agreed with a smile.

 

D’Artagnan grinned at both of them, then lifted the cup of wine that was still sitting where she had left it when Treville had called them all to attention in the yard, barely half an hour after he had returned from a summons to the palace that morning. She motioned quickly that the others should do the same, and soon all four had raised their glasses, gathering them in the air above the middle of their table

 

"May he rest in peace, the miserable bastard," Porthos said grandly, with a quick wink.

 

"Miserable bastard," they all echoed, cups briefly clinking together before they drank a toast to the death of their nemesis.

 

They sat quietly for a few minutes, lost in their thoughts of what this could mean for all of them. Charline was the first to ask the question.

 

"What is the King going to do without Richelieu?"

 

"I don't know," Aramis sighed. "Make a decision for himself?"

 

Porthos snorted. "Have you met him?"

 

"I know, I know. Ridiculous suggestion."

 

"I imagine he'll get a new adviser," Athos drawled, removing his hand from d'Artagnan's with a final stroke of his thumb across her knuckles and laying it on the table, as a boy from the kitchens approached to offer them some food. 

 

"Oh God," Aramis' head dropped to the table, causing the boy to jump as he placed a pot on the table before scurrying quickly away. "What if the new one is worse?"

 

"Worse?" Porthos spluttered through the wine he was in the process of swallowing. "How the hell could anyone be worse?"

 

"Oh, I don't know," Charline said dryly. "I think we've met a few people since I arrived here that you could say were worse than him."

 

"Maybe," Porthos agreed. "But we got the better of everyone but that bastard."

 

"True," Charline grinned, standing to ladle stew from the pot into their waiting bowls.

 

"Still," Athos said quietly. "Better the devil you know..."

 

Aramis rolled his eyes at him. "Ever the cheery soldier, eh, Athos?"

 

Athos raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think I'm mistaken in pointing out that you actually said it first, Aramis."

 

"Perhaps, but I listened to little d'Artagnan here, and cheered up a bit!"

 

Charline froze in the middle of handing a bowl of food to him. "Sorry, who?"

 

Aramis raised his hand and took hold of the no-longer-offered crockery. "Um, clever d'Artagnan? Masterful d'Artagnan?"

  
She rolled her eyes and thrust the bowl sharply into him.

 

"Hey! You nearly spilled that!"

 

"Oh shush. You're lucky I didn't pour it into your lap after this morning." She glared at both him and Porthos, who both replied to it with a grin.

 

"We told you, d'Artagnan," Porthos said quietly, "You're far too clean when you come down here in the mornings."

 

"A little dirt never hurt anyone," Aramis chimed in, nodding at the splatters of dried in mud that still graced Charline's cheek and her jacket. The mud that had dried onto her trousers was thankfully beyond his vision. "And besides, a dirty face hides the lack of beard rather well."

 

She kept glaring at both of them as they began to chuckle at her, then turned and gaped at Athos as he joined in.

 

"What?" he asked, smiling innocently.

 

"You're backing them up?" she said incredulously. "They attacked me!"

 

"Tackled, d'Artagnan, tackled," Porthos interjected. 

 

"Think of it as part of your training," Athos grinned.

 

"And we'll just think of the expression on your face as we grabbed you as one of the funniest things we've seen in some time," Aramis toasted her with his wine, then all three of them started laughing properly.

 

"I hate you all," she grumbled, digging into her food and doing her best to ignore the impressions of her as she fell into the mud, no – was _thrown_ into the mud, that Aramis was doing across the table. She was going to get them back for this one, absolutely. She wasn't particularly a morning person to begin with, but to arrive yawning into the yard and be instantly tackled to the ground by two overgrown children was not quite the way she had imagined being brought fully awake.

 

For that she had planned a little stolen time in the stables with a certain brooding musketeer. Who was now laughing at her, and so who was also going to be experiencing the repercussions of this little escapade. 

 

“Athos, Aramis, Porthos,” Treville called from above them, causing them to quieten down instantly. “D’Artagnan too, get up here.”

 

Charline gave them one final glare before climbing out from her seat to mount the stairs to the captain's office, not waiting for any of them. She knew fine well that huffing about it wasn't going to stop them laughing any time soon, but huffs were not something she had ever been able to avoid when she was annoyed. More's the pity.

 

Despite the summons, she paused to knock on Treville's door before opening it to enter the room. He was seated at his desk; his favourite position when dealing with the four of them. She supposed it gave him a sense of some control, which was never easy when conversing with Aramis and Porthos, or herself and Athos if she was entirely honest. She sometimes wondered if the captain at all regretted his close relationship with the four of them. For all they always followed his orders with little question, that didn't mean they didn't give him a good few headaches along the way.

 

Treville looked up as she entered and just raised an eyebrow in question.

 

"They're on their way," she said, flushing slightly. He would work out instantly that they had been teasing her, of course.

 

She didn't have to wait long before she heard footsteps behind her, heralding the arrival of her three musketeers. A second later she was grabbed round the shoulder by Aramis' arm and squeezed tightly while he laughed gently and pressed a kiss to her temple. She shoved him off, but grinned at his exaggerated look of hurt.

 

"Are we finished?" the captain asked dryly.

 

"Sir," Aramis said, nodding as he fell into place with a little more distance between him and d'Artagnan. The captain just shook his head.

 

"Well, as you know Richelieu died this morning," he began.

 

"Yes, sir," Porthos said, smiling.

 

"And may he settle well in his proper place," Athos said, his face giving away nothing when Charline glanced round at him.

 

Treville clearly took his meaning, but his facial expression didn't change at all, either in agreement or censure. "Indeed, Athos. Indeed. Now, the King has already called for a state funeral to be organised, which will take place a week from Sunday..."

 

Aramis groaned. "Please tell me he's not asked for all musketeers in attendance?"

 

The captain smiled. "The musketeers will of course be represented, Aramis. And I had a good mind to make you four go, but alas the King has another request that needs to be fulfilled, and I thought your time might be better spent elsewhere."

 

"You see, Porthos?" Aramis grinned. "I knew the captain loved us."

 

"As if I ever doubted it, Aramis."

 

"Perhaps Captain Treville is just saving himself the hassle of having you two there when he will have to go himself," Athos pointed out.

 

"And you two?"

 

Athos just shrugged, but Charline knew the answer. The captain had to attend, but after the events of the previous few months there was no way he would ask them to go and pretend to mourn for that man, any of them.

 

"This is not an easy task, but there is no one else I would trust with this job. You must leave as soon as you're organised."

 

"For where?" Charline asked, intrigued. It was difficult to keep the excitement from her voice, although she tried as Athos had stiffened beside her at Treville's suggestion of danger in their mission.

 

"Spain," Treville said. "The King has asked that we fetch the Comte de Rochefort, one of the cardinal's men, and bring him to Paris."

 

"Why does he need fetching?" Porthos asked.

 

"Because he escaped from prison. He's a wanted man, but the King says it is vital he is brought safely to Paris. Your instructions," Treville stood from behind his desk, holding out a rolled up length of parchment, which Athos automatically stepped forward to retrieve. "You'll leave first thing in the morning. Be ready."

 

They took their captain's words as the dismissal it was and left his office quickly, d'Artganan practically bouncing down the stairs and back to her seat. 

 

"Cheered up then?" Porthos asked, grinning at her as he sat back down on the opposite side of the table. Aramis followed him as Athos sat back down beside her, already frowning at the paper he had been given.

 

She tried to snap her facial expression back into a glare, but it just didn't work. "Absolutely," she admitted. "Actually getting out of Paris? It's been driving me mad!"

 

Since the removal of Milady de Winter from their lives, and the extended time it had taken for her to recover from the whole ordeal, Charline hadn't been allowed to do any work that was considered too risky, or that would take her out of the city. She wasn't entirely sure whether Athos or Captain Treville should be thanked for this lock down, but she had certainly argued with Athos about it on a number of occasions on the last couple of months. She did not need to be mollycoddled, despite what the (now rare) nightmares may have suggested.

 

Oh well. The captain had obviously decided that her incarceration was over, and she was not going to let a concerned Athos stop her from enjoying it. However sullen and silent he may become.

 

"Well?" Aramis asked.

 

Athos sighed. "It could be fairly straightforward..."

 

"But...?" Porthos asked.

 

"But I know of the Comte de Rochefort, and I don't think anything will be straightforward with him."

 

"Oh good," said Charline, grinning. 

 

Athos just sighed quietly beside her.

 

"Come on then," Aramis said as he pulled himself up from the table. "We've time for some training for a couple of hours before we head home."

 

Charline got up eagerly to join him and soon she was sparring confidently with him, with Porthos calling instructions from the sidelines. She noticed that Athos had moved out from his seat and walked round the table to lean against it and watch. She could feel his eyes burning into her and it made her squirm pleasantly, but she forced herself not to focus on it and concentrated on getting the better of Aramis.

 

They trained her thoroughly; swapping in and out to push her to limits they hadn't tried to since she'd left the sickroom two months previously. Quickly, d'Artagnan realised that they were doing this for Athos' benefit; to show him that she was ready to be doing things slightly more dangerous than royal guard duty, and basic missions. She was grateful, and it pushed her to keep going until all three of them were a sweaty mess.

 

"Enough," Athos said, eventually. "We're done for today."

 

D'Artagnan let her arm drop with relief, rolling her shoulders to stop the muscles tensing before she had a chance to wash properly and soothe them. She moved to slump against the table by Athos' side, not caring what she must look like with her face scarlet and her hair plastered to her face and head. She noted gladly that Athos’ tension had waned somewhat, and she doubted that they were going to have an argument that day about whether she was ready. Not that she was convinced it wouldn’t happen later instead.

 

Aramis and Porthos sheathed their swords and used their empty wine cups to help themselves to the water from the trough in the training yard that was always kept full for sparring musketeers. Thirst sated, they took their leave, announcing their intent to retire to their beds straight after supper. 

 

Charline and Athos both snorted at the same time. 

 

"Well, perhaps we'll find time for a drink or two," Porthos grinned.

 

"Just don't be late," Athos warned, although he knew it wasn't needed. Tipping their hats with a grin, the two of them headed towards the gate. Athos turned towards d’Artagnan and opened his mouth to speak, but d’Artagnan halted him with a raise of her hand and snuck quietly behind them to hover at the gate and watch them make their way down the street.

 

Her eyes widened gleefully a moment or two later when they paused at the approach of three young ladies, pulling their hats off swiftly as they began to do their best to impress them. Charline quickly slipped from the gateway and headed up the street, keeping to the shadows of the buildings as she approached.  She stopped a few steps away, pausing to see if either musketeer noticed they were under surveillance. Nothing. How easily they were distracted by a pretty face.

 

Aramis was the unlucky one. He was closest to the large patch of mud that had been left by the morning’s rain, and with his current distraction it was the work of a moment to place her sword in front of his legs as she ran the few paces and barrelled into him, knocking his knee out of lock and sending him sprawling into the mud. Luckily, the three ladies saw her coming and jumped out of the way of the splattering mud in the final second of his spectacular fall.

 

Porthos stared at his friend starfished in the mud for a moment before he burst into deep and loud laughter, looking over his shoulder to see Charline with her hands braced on her knees as tears of laughter ran down her face. Aramis pulled himself up to a sitting position and glared at her in fury, while the ladies quickly vanished behind him.

 

“You little...!” he growled.

 

“Now, now,” she laughed. “Don’t get huffy Aramis; just think of it as part of your training!” She folded her arms and raised an amused eyebrow at him until he shook his head, smiling. He reached up for her hand to pull himself up, but she took a step back. She was not that stupid. Mock-frowning at her he clambered to his feet, his arms held out by his sides as he looked in dismay at the mud that was dripping off of him.

 

“Bye!” Charline said cheerfully, waving innocently before she started jogging away. “Oh, and Porthos?”

 

He looked up at her, tears of mirth running down his face.

 

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at – this just means that your payback is still to come!” she saluted him as his mouth dropped and Aramis started laughing, then ran back to the gates, surprised to find Athos leaning against them with a smile on his face as he watched her approach.

 

“Feel better?” he grinned.

 

“Much,” she nodded. “Now I’m going to go and get out of my own dirty clothes. I wonder if I should ask for hot water for a proper bath? I might have mud dried onto my skin to. Who knows. ”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her, smiling hopefully.

 

“Now, didn’t you say we needed to take it easy tonight?” she asked, her eyes wide in mock innocence. “I think I better just get myself something quick to eat, and get undressed and go straight to bed. You, I think, should probably get yourself home. Shame I can’t get one of the stable boys to scrub my back. Oh well, I’ll just have to do what I can. I really can’t wait to take these bindings off though, they’re feeling rather tight today.”

 

She started to walk away, hearing him growl a little behind her. She laughed lightly as she walked over to their table, aiming to pick up what she had dared to remove of her outfit in the heat of her training, and the dagger and pistol she had left there. As she lifted them up she felt Athos march behind her over towards the stables. She looked after him in puzzlement, until one of the young stable boys came out and walked over to her.

 

“Athos says you’ve to help him in the stables, sir,” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes in his nervousness.

 

“And what are you to do?” she asked, suspiciously.

 

“I’ve to have a break and go and get some dinner from the kitchens,” he said, smiling a little but still not looking her in the eyes.

 

“Well, best be off then, eh?” she watched as the boy scampered off to the kitchens, excited at getting an extra meal into him for the day, then looked over to the stables and narrowed her eyes. Athos knew fine well that if he summoned her in the barracks she had to obey; she wasn’t a musketeer after all.

 

She put her things back down on one of the benches and walked briskly over to the stable doors. “Athos?” she called. No answer.

 

She stepped inside and paused to let her eyes adjust to the murkiness. She walked into the darkness, peering into the stalls as she passed but seeing no sign of Athos.

 

She jumped as hands reached round her from behind, sliding to hold tightly around her waist as a face buried itself into her shoulder and lips pressed gently against her neck. She sighed and tilted her head to one side, giving Athos more access.

 

“Are you really going to send me home alone tonight?” he asked softly, his lips trailing down her jaw line in a series of little kisses.

 

“Yes,” she breathed, refusing to give in, but closing her eyes to the sensation of his lips on her neck again.

 

“Are you sure?” he murmured, his hands separating as one trailed up to rest against the bandages that kept her breasts away from him, and the other skimming downwards, passing by where she suddenly desperately wanted him to touch her and squeezing her thigh gently.

 

“Yes,” she gasped, her stubbornness and her desire suddenly fiercely at war with each other.

 

“Really?” he asked, letting go of her suddenly. She felt a rush of loss before he suddenly grabbed her arms and spun her on the spot. He grinned briefly at her before burying his hands in her hair and bringing her face to his. He sought her lips in a burning kiss, full of desire and need, and d’Artagnan found herself instantly breathless. Her knees trembled as they opened their mouths simultaneously and he walked her backwards until her back was against the wall of the stables and his body was pressed tightly against her. She was gasping when they finally broke apart and he grinned at her through his own heavy breaths. “You still sure?”

 

“You fight dirty Athos,” she tried to frown at him.

 

“That was the idea,” he grinned, kissing her briefly again.

 

Untangling her hands from where they were tightly wound around his neck, she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. She walked past him and headed towards the door, leaving him gaping stupidly behind her.

 

She paused a few steps by the door, keeping them hidden for a few moments more. “I still want that bath,” she called over her shoulder. “And if you make yourself useful I may decide to stay.”

 

He chuckled behind her, then walked quickly up behind her. He kissed the back of her neck then whispered in her ear. “Oh, I think you’ll find I can be very useful, d’Artagnan.”

 

He strode past her and out the door. When she got her breath back and emerged from the stables a few moments later, he was waiting patiently by their table, her belongings in his hands. She walked over and took them from him, putting her jacket back on and securing her weapons. The yard was empty, but they still didn’t talk about their plans. Instead they simultaneously began walking towards the gate and turned to the left to head towards Athos’ apartments.

 

Charline’s whole body was tense with impatience as she waited to be alone with him. Suddenly, the promise of a new adventure tomorrow wasn’t the most exciting thing was happening to her.

 

Glancing to the side, she saw the Athos was watching her. When she caught his eye he winked slowly and she caught her breath and their pace quickened. Adventures could wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking things a little into the first episode...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the encouragement so far!
> 
> You all make me very happy. :)
> 
> B x
> 
> (And look, AtleastSlightlyRaven made some fan art!   
> http://mushroom2020.deviantart.com/art/Female-Musketeers-508210482   
> Beautiful!)

Charline was really rather disappointed. Other than a scuffle on a hill after stopping what turned out to be the Comte himself from being lynched, and chasing him down for all of ten minutes after he stole Athos’ horse, there was very little of any measurable amount of danger faced on their entire mission.

Now, they had just returned to Paris and had been sent almost straight to the palace so that Rochefort could be received by the King and Queen. Rather bored of the conversation that was taking place in the chamber they were standing around in, d’Artagnan was amusing herself by remembering the only part of their almost two-week mission that she’d enjoyed; a ten minute ride with Athos pressed tightly against her as they had shared her horse on their way to reclaim his. It had been the only time in all their days away from Paris that Athos had been free to touch her, especially with Rochefort in their company on the way back. Now, she stood re-imagining the warmth of Athos’ arms around her middle, and dreaming of the freedom to share in his warmth in the night ahead, all being well.

She was suddenly snapped out of her reverie as the Spanish ambassador crashed to the floor at the front of the room, and she realised with amazement that Rochefort had just punched the man, in front of everyone – including the King! It seemed like everyone in the room tensed at the same time, and then the King stepped forward and laughingly shook Rochefort by the hand, before they left the room together. The Queen followed shortly afterwards, moving into a different chamber, and the remaining occupants of the room fell into various conversations.

“I still don’t trust him,” Aramis announced as they waited to be dismissed.

“No, I don’t either,” Athos agreed.

“It was a good punch though,” Porthos conceded, which the others gave a nod or a grunt of agreement with.

“How long until we can go, do you think?” Charline asked.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Aramis asked, with an expression of mocking shock on his face.

“I think we all have somewhere better than here to be,” she grumbled.

“Absolutely,” Athos said quietly. When she looked at him he was grinning, and she returned his smile just as Aramis and Porthos noticed and rolled their eyes at the pair of them.

“Oh give it a rest, for the love of God,” Porthos groaned. “You’ll be home soon enough.”

“Jealousy is a curse, Porthos,” d’Artagnan laughed lightly, waggling her eyebrows at him.

“No thanks,” Porthos shrugged. Charline looked at him, not quite sure whether or not to be offended. “Athos has really cold feet. Absolute nightmare,” he deadpanned quietly, with a shudder for effect.

Charline burst out laughing, while Athos made a token protest, and Aramis slapped his best friend on the shoulder. “You’re absolutely right, Porthos. But at least he doesn’t try to go for a wander during the night,” he said.

“That was one time!” Porthos protested loudly, causing a few of the others in the room to look round at them. He lowered his voice. “And I wasn’t asleep, I told you both that.”

“You were asleep,” said Athos. “Otherwise why were you trying to wrap your cloak around that tree to keep it warm?”

D’Artagnan snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. “When was this?”

“About four years ago,” Aramis grinned. “It was a winter mission up north. I drew the short straw and had to share my tent with him when it rained for four days straight and we gave up trying to shelter under branches of big trees.”

“One time,” Porthos hissed.

They stopped the laughter when a steward came in and dismissed them.

“Finally,” Charline breathed, then turned and led the way out of the room. No one else followed them out the same door, and soon the four of them were making their way companionably down a corridor, still laughing at an increasingly frustrated Porthos. The group paused momentarily as they rounded a corner and almost walked straight into Constance and her husband. The woman’s eyes lit up as she saw them, and Athos quickly wrapped an arm around Bonacieux’s shoulder, leading him away with a loud conversation about cloth, which Aramis and Porthos quickly joined in.

As soon as they were alone the two women smiled happily at each other. “I can’t believe this whole charade is necessary,” d’Artagnan commented. “If he only knew the truth!”

“I know,” Constance giggled. “But he’s still convinced we are having an affair when I spent so much time after...when you were recovering.”

“Well, this won’t help,” Charline pointed out dryly, as they began to walk slowly after the others.

“Probably not. But then neither will you getting me a place here at the palace!”

“Oh,” Charline said. “Should I not have? I thought it would be a good position for you, so I mentioned you to the Queen.”

Constance sighed. “It will be fine. But she mentioned you, and now Bonacieux is going to be more convinced of an affair than ever!”

“Oh well,” Charline shrugged. “He will my help my cover, if nothing else.”

They shared a smile, then Constance briefly pulled her in for a hug. “I better go and catch up with him.”

Charline nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

With a smile and a quick wave, Constance pattered off after Bonacieux, with Charline following at a more sedate pace. On reaching the bottom of the stairs she noticed that Athos and Aramis were talking quietly alone and almost turned to walk over to them, but by the looks on both of their faces it was not a happy conversation so, puzzled, she continued outside and found Porthos waving off the dressmaker and his wife.

“Where are the other two?” Porthos asked her.

“What?”

“I didn’t realise they weren’t behind me until I found myself out here, caught up in a conversation about linens,” he said, looking rather sour about being left alone with Bonacieux the bore.

“Oh,” d’Artagnan was surprised that Porthos didn’t know what was going on either, and found that this just made her more suspicious, and nervous, about what she had witnessed. “They’re just coming, I think.”

She wasn’t wrong. Seconds later the two of them appeared outside, making an excuse about speaking to a steward. Before she had a chance to ask, Aramis loudly announced that it was time for dinner and slung his arm around Porthos shoulder and steering him towards the stables.

D’Artagnan looked at Athos, waiting to see if he was going to explain, but apparently he hadn’t noticed her in the room as he just asked if they were going to join the others. She shrugged and nodded before turning to follow the others. She was hungry after all, and keeping an eye on Athos and Aramis might not be such a bad idea.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Several hours later they were still in their favourite tavern and d’Artagnan was getting annoyed. Through dinner and the several rounds of drinks there had been no suggestions of any disharmony between the two musketeers, and everything seemed perfectly normal. There was no doubt in her mind now that the conversation she had witnessed had been fraught with tension of some sort, but other than an obvious desire for drunkenness on Aramis’ part, nothing seemed to be untoward here at all.

“Alright d’Artagnan?” Porthos asked. “You’ve been scowling into your wine for a while.”

“Fine,” she sighed. Everyone was looking at her, so she smiled at them quickly, then made a decision. She was going to get an answer out of Athos, one way or another.

“I think I’m just ready to go,” she said, not surprised when Athos immediately reached for his hat and placed it on his head. “G’night.”

“Night, d’Artagnan, Athos,” Porthos said, nodding at them both. Aramis grinned at them and raised his glass.

“Enjoy your evening,” he said, waggling his eyebrows in much the same way she had done to Porthos earlier that day.

“Goodnight, Aramis.”

Outside the tavern they walked in silence, making their way back to Athos’ apartments. There was no need for discussion. Despite her suspicion that he was keeping something from her, she found herself desperate to reach out and take his hand. A wide yawn suddenly took her by surprise.

“Tired, d’Artagnan?” Athos chuckled.

“No,” she said stubbornly. But she was clearly lying. With every step onwards she felt it more and more. She never slept well when they were on the road, and with Rochefort in their company for the last week she had been even more on edge than usual.

“Come on,” Athos said, opening his door and stepping back to let her in first. As always the street was quiet, so there was no need to pretend she was seeing her drunken comrade home.

Inside, d’Artagnan eyed the stairs with a wary sigh then began to climb them. Athos appeared at her back, hands on her waist as he pushed her lightly to help her up to his first floor rooms. At the top of the stairs he slid one hand around her middle, the other reaching into his pocket for the key. He opened the door quickly and pushed her gently inside. Kicking her boots off, another yawn escaped.

Athos was suddenly beside her, removing her weapons and unbuckling her belt. She let her arms fall lightly to her side, letting him take over and undress her. She loved it when he did this, and he clearly enjoyed being able to take care of her in this one way she would allow. Soon she was standing in just her underwear and her bindings. He left her to go and get one of his shirts, which he slipped over her head just as she loosened the bandage and let it fall to the floor. When she was this tired he always gave her a shirt to sleep in. She brought the material to her nose, and was vaguely disappointed that it smelled entirely clean, with no hint of him.

She didn’t move towards the bed as she normally did; instead she kept the shirt pressed to her face and watched him above it as he undressed in front of her. Catching her watching him, he grinned at her, but shook his head.

“Sleep for you d’Artagnan,” he said, stepping out of his trousers and coming over to her to kiss her gently.

She pouted when he released her. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“We can talk in the morning,” he said, pushing her over to the bed and making her lie down.

“Talking is not what we’ll be doing in the morning Athos,” she scoffed as he climbed in beside her.

“True,” he mused, curling into her and tucking her head under his chin. She mouthed a kiss onto his bare chest. “We can talk tomorrow.”

She sighed happily as his warmth washed through her and a kiss was pressed into her hair. Almost immediately, she was asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Charline was absolutely right. They did not, indeed, talk in the morning. The fact they woke up with her leg wrapped over his hip, and his hand stroking her back where it had sneaked inside the shirt she wore, may have had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the fact that when they looked at each other they both remembered at the same time that they hadn’t actually been alone together for over two weeks. It may even have had something to do with Charline using the leg she had hooked over Athos to push him onto his back, his fingers digging tightly into her hips as she straddled him, before they both moved their heads simultaneously so their mouths could meet in the middle.

Who knows.

But, they had no time for a conversation; they barely had time to get ready and get to the garrison on time. As it was Aramis and Porthos barely had time to try and make her blush before Treville was calling them up to his office, and informing them that they were going to be back in Rochefort’s company for a while, and this time they were definitely heading right into Spain.

The day was spent making plans for breaking into the prison, with Rochefort trying to take charge and Athos giving him no leeway whatsoever. She felt a rush of pride when he shot Rochefort’s claim to control down, and a few other feelings when thought back to their morning. Forcing her blush down, she made herself concentrate on what was happening, but making sure she could keep an eye on their companion at the same time.

Until he had done something to prove her wrong, she was not going to trust him. The other may claim not to trust him, but as they rarely trusted anyone that was hardly a surprise. Not that they were often wrong with their instincts, of course. But something about this guy just gave her a really bad feeling, and she wasn’t quite sure what it was.

But, she said nothing. Instead she spent the day keeping watch for anything that backed up her initial feeling. Other than his smug pompousness, however, she saw nothing.

He left them in the early evening, prepared to meet them back at the barracks in the early hours of the next morning to leave for Spain. The musketeers, and d’Artagnan, sat at their table with some food, finalising their own touches to the plans.

“It seems straight forward enough,” Aramis shrugged as he finished his meal.

“On the surface,” said Athos. “Although I’m not entirely pleased with every part of it.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Porthos chuckled.

Charline was confused. Had she missed something earlier while she was watching Rochefort?

“It might not even come to that Athos,” said Aramis. “It’s just a contingency plan. If all goes well you can be the one to go in first, if you like.”

She had definitely missed something here.

“Anyway, d’Artagnan’s not worried, are you?”Aramis continued, nodding to her.

She froze. “Um...”

They all looked at her in some confusion.

“You agreed earlier,” said Porthos, concerned. “If you don’t think you’re ready...”

“What? No! I am ready, honestly,” she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Ready for what?” Porthos asked. She glanced at Aramis and Athos, but both of them had the same suspicious expressions on their faces.

“For...breaking into the Spanish prison?”

“Nice try,” Aramis said dryly.

“What the hell were you doing that you missed this?” Athos asked, clearly frustrated.

“I was watching Rochefort!” she cried, holding her hands out in surrender. “I don’t trust him,” she muttered.

Annoyed by his obvious frustration with her, she quickly bristled and went on the attack as usual. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, Athos,” she snapped. “We’ve had this conversation already. If I am ready to be back in the field then I am ready for whatever this job entails. You can’t keep me in the background forever; people will notice that you’re not letting me do anything pretty damn soon!”

“You’ve already been on one mission this week. I’m hardly keeping you in the background,” Athos growled back at her.

“Well...good,” she said, having run out of things to say. She didn’t entirely know why she had snapped in the first place. He wasn’t having the last word of it though. “I’m doing whatever I agreed to though,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Whether I was aware of it or not.”

“Fine,” he growled at her. He still was flummoxed by her temper every now and again. Which was perfectly fair, as she struggled with his sometimes too.

“You two finished yet?” Aramis drawled.

“Yes,” they both said shortly, faces turned away from each other.

Aramis rolled his eyes. “Right, so the full plan is this.” He then rattled through the plan they had spent the day making, enlightening d’Artagnan to the fact that she had agreed to go on ahead and break in alone if they were attacked on the road, and to kill their intended rescue if the other didn’t turn up in time. She wasn’t overly happy about any of it, and the latter part certainly wasn’t her favourite task ever, but she was just stubborn enough to hold her facial expression perfectly still as Aramis ticked off every part of the plan.

With confirmation from everyone the whole plan was correct, Porthos and Aramis announced that they were off to catch up with a couple of ladies they had promised their time to as soon as they were available and they quickly disappeared.

Athos and Charline sat quietly for a few moments, until Charline sighed. “Come on. Let’s go up to my rooms before everyone else turns up for duty change.” Saying nothing else, the two of them crossed the empty yard and headed up the stairs, making their way around the balcony to the opposite end from Treville’s office, and into d’Artagnan’s, thankfully secluded, rooms.

Inside, d’Artagnan dumped the weapons she was carrying onto the table and stretched out on the bed with a sigh. With her eyes shut, she heard the sounds of Athos removing his outer layers and felt the bed move as he sat on the edge of it beside her. He said nothing, clearly waiting for him to speak.

“I’m fine with it,” she said quietly. “Honest.”

“I know,” he said.

“And thank you for not asking,” she added. She was grateful that he didn’t patronise her and ask her if she was sure about this. A few months ago he would have asked, and she would have properly lost her temper and they would have fought for days. Not that they didn’t do that anymore, they were just getting better at it. Slightly.

He lay down beside her and she curled into him. They lay in silence, hands lazily entwining as they each thought about what could happen in the next couple of weeks.

“I love you,” she said softly, her heart squeezing happily when he tilted her face to his to kiss her and repeated her words back to her. Smiling at him, she cuddled back into his side and allowed herself to relax. She loved when they had evenings like this, few and far between as they were.

Eventually, she took the opportunity to have the conversation.

“Is everything alright with Aramis?” she asked quietly.  Athos’ free hand was lazily trailing up and down her back, and she felt it pause briefly after she spoke.

“What do you mean?”

She tilted her head to look at him. “I saw the two of you, at the palace. It didn’t look like you were having a nice conversation.”

Athos sighed wearily, his hand leaving her back to come up and pinch the bridge of his nose. D’Artagnan propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him, concerned.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. His eyes were still closed.

“Clearly,” she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. With another sigh, he moved his hand away from his face and looked at her. There was definitely some sadness in his expression.

“It’s nothing I can tell you about,” he said. Immediately she tensed, but his eyes were pleading with her not to be upset. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

She reached down and stroked his face. “Why not?”

“It’s Aramis’ secret, not mine,” he said. She nodded; exactly what she had expected. And perfectly valid. Then she noticed something in his eyes.

“Secrets are fair enough, Athos, but there’s something else.”

“It’s nothing, d’Artagnan,” he surprised her by swinging himself off the bed and onto his feet.

She gaped at him. “Again, clearly.”

He just looked at her, giving nothing away.

“I don’t want to ask you to give me his secret Athos, but you’re scaring me a little.”

“You can’t know, alright? If I could tell you, I would. But it’s dangerous,” he said, and clearly regretted it instantly.

“Dangerous?” she asked, getting to her feet too. “As in he’s got himself into some dangerous trouble, or it’s dangerous to know about it?”

His answer told her what she needed to know.

“Don’t you think you’re harbouring enough dangerous secrets?” she hissed, suddenly angry.

“Plenty, yes. But I never asked for either of them,” he pointed out. Charline ignored the stab of hurt, knowing he didn’t mean it like that.

“And Porthos? Is he putting you in danger too, or is it just me and Aramis?”

“Charline-”

“My God, Athos...”

“Calm down!” he almost yelled at her, and she realised she had been pacing. “It is fine, alright? There is less danger than there was, as long as we carry on as normal.”

She sank down on the edge of the bed, and he sat beside her.

“I won’t tell you, so you’re just going to have to trust me.”

“I do,” she said, askance.

“No, you don’t,” he said, holding up a hand as she started to protest. “You don’t trust that I love you enough to keep myself as safe as I can. If there was real danger I would be doing more about it. I would never choose to put you through what I thought was going to happen when Anne...when Milady was finished with you.”

“Athos, I know you love me.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “You know that. But you don’t trust that it’s enough, that I love you enough. Or as much as you love me.”

“I do, I promise I do,” she pleaded, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. She hated that dejected tone in his voice.

They sat there for several minutes, calming down and holding on to each other. Eventually she pulled back to look at him. “If I didn’t trust that you loved me as much as I know you do, would I have invented myself a twin and written letters to send to Bertrand, to have him send back?”

He smiled softly at her, tucking her hair gently behind her ear. “That is true,” he agreed.

“Then can we just agree that we don’t like each other being in danger, and that we both love each other completely, and that we’re both pretty confident about that?”

He chuckled and pulled her down with him as he lay back on the bed. “Fair enough.”

“I thought we were getting better at this no fighting thing?” she said after a few minutes.

“We are,” Athos said. “That has to be the shortest one ever.”

She laughed. “Alright. Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“That you’ll tell me what’s going on if it gets more dangerous.”

He sighed. “I promise.”

“Good.”

She breathed in the scent of him, her face pressed into his neck once more.  She kissed him gently then spoke again. “Can you promise me one more thing?”

“I can try.”

“Can we make use of this bed while we still have one? And while we’re still alone?”

She squealed as he moved suddenly, pinning her to the bed.

“That I think I can manage,” he said, before claiming her lips and making her forget about everything that had been bothering her as they made every use of the bed they could think of, until they were too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

Athos was snoring softly within minutes of spooning in behind her, and as Charline drifted off she had just enough energy to acknowledge that as lovely as the distraction had been, she was suddenly gripped once more with anxiety. Only now she wasn’t only worrying about what Rochefort was up to, but also what mess Aramis had managed to get himself, and Athos, into.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness! It's taking a little longer than I planned...
> 
> Hopefully the wait was worth it. 
> 
> B x

 

For a terrifying moment, she wasn't sure what had woken her. Her eyes shot open and stared at the leafy branches overhead, her heart pounding in her throat. A soft noise caught her attention. She could hear the heavy breathing that meant Porthos was still asleep, and from the corner of her eye she could see the rise and fall of Aramis' chest where he lay to her right. The space on her left was empty, which meant that Athos was on watch, most likely prowling out in front of the nook they had found against a high stone wall in the woodland, trees masking them from above. She had taken the first watch duty herself, and ha spent two hours with her back to the little sheltered clearing, watching for intruders, and with one eye on the horses.

 

They had agreed before leaving that Rochefort would not be required to do watch duty, and if he insisted he would not do it alone. It was clear that d'Artagnan was not alone in her uneasy feeling about him.

 

Now, she lay silently, trying to keep her breath as steady as possible, and wondered idly if Athos had coughed in the distance, or one of the horses had whinnied, and awoken her.

 

A sudden rustling noise told her that she was wrong. 

 

Slowly, she rolled her head to one side, facing the noise which has surely been a repeat of that which had awoken her. She half closed her eyes as she turned, feigning sleep but hopeful that she would glimpse the cause in the moonlight. Her eyes alighted on a hunched figure, standing as though it had just been crouched over Porthos and was now stretching to its feet. 

 

 

Quickly she reached out and took hold of the sword that she had kept never more than an inch from her side since he had joined them. She watched as he tiptoed quietly towards the edge of their clearing, towards the trees that separated them from where Athos would be taking watch. When the moonlight glinted off the handle of the sword he was gripping at his waist, she moved more obviously, making sure she made enough noise to capture his attention. He froze and looked over his shoulder as she rolled fully over, then sat up as if she had just seen him.

 

"Where are you going?" she asked calmly, whispering as he would expect her to with her friends nearby.

 

"I woke up because of some noise or other, so I thought I'd check on Athos, and offer to take over if he is tired."

 

He's always so smooth, she thought. Even when he's questioned like this he can answer steadily, and like he's doing you a favour in deigning to give you a response. Aloud she said: "No need. It's Aramis' watch now anyway."

 

Without taking her eyes off of Rochefort, who also didn't move, she reached out a hand and shook Aramis awake.

 

Blearily, he asked what she wanted. 

 

"Watch time," she replied. Aramis blinked at her for a few seconds, then was on his feet, instantly alert as he strapped on his weapons and headed out. He was unruffled by the sight of Rochefort standing at the edge of the clearing, clasping him on the shoulder as he went by with the offer to join him if he was awake anyway.

 

Stuck, Rochefort shrugged and followed Aramis.

 

Whatever he had been planning, if her suspicions were indeed in any way correct, he could do nothing now that she knew he was with Aramis. If something happened to their guard something would happen to him too, and she didn't think suicide was part of any of the plans she was convinced he was hiding.

 

She lay back down quietly, waiting for the sounds of Athos leaving his post and heading back to camp, which she was rewarded with just a couple of minutes later. She watched as he walked over to her. He glanced down at her and, seeing she was still awake, he smiled gently at her before stepping over her to stretch out beside her for a moment.

 

"I'll go and sleep beside Porthos," he whispered as he took her hand in his, entwining their fingers together.

 

"Alright," she sighed quietly. This was the most intimately they had touched since setting out on their journey several days before. With Rochefort in their company they had to be extremely careful, and Charline had found that despite the fact that they were together all day, she was beginning to miss Athos terribly.

 

He squeezed her hand then raised it quickly to his mouth to brush a kiss over her knuckles. She relaxed a little, sensing that he was struggling similarly.

 

Moments later, he squeezed her hand once more before moving as if to sit up. She stopped him by squeezing tightly.

 

"Wait," she whispered. "Rochefort... he was, well he was up to something. He was sneaking around and he woke me up."

 

Athos ruend his head to her and frowned. "Did you ask him what he was doing?"

 

"Yes, he said he heard a noise and he was going to check on you," she admitted.

 

"And you don't believe him?"

 

"Not entirely, no. I can't really explain why, just something about him. I mean, why not wake anyone else to check with him?"

 

"Maybe he didn't want to wake anyone unnecessarily?"

 

D'Artagnan muttered, annoyed. "I know you don't entirely trust him either."

 

"No, I don't. But until he does something to change it, we have to. We have to trust his information, and he have to trust his actions."

 

"I know," she sighed.

 

"I better move," Athos said, darting his head forward to kiss her temple quickly.

 

"I'm going to keep watching him," she warned as Athos pulled himself to his feet.

 

"Good," he grinned at her. "Your stubbornness is what I keep you around for."

 

"Oh, shut up," she muttered at him before curling onto her side with her blanket pulled up over her ears. She smiled as she heard the muffled sound of his quiet laughter.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

"Go ahead, to the castle," Athos said to her fiercely. She had only a moment to look at him sadly before she obeyed, steering her horse in towards the steep slope and scrambling up it, riding away quickly. The sound of gunfire brought her to a momentary stop, but her sense of duty overtook her frantic heart and she rode on, trying to shut out the shouting and firing behind her.

 

They would be fine; they always were.

 

It took her only half an hour to reach the moat that surrounded the prison. Keeping to the trees, she dismounted and crept to the edge of the woodland, sending up a quick prayer for the safety of her musketeers before concentrating on the scene in front of her and looking for the way in that Rochefort had mentioned. She could see no portcullis in the water. Keeping one eye on the few guards she cold see, she crept around the edge of the moat, sticking carefully to the shadows of the woodland. Eventually, she saw it. The top of the grate was in the wall of the castle, the water covering most of it, she presumed. A quick look up told her that there was no guard watching this side of the building, so she took her opportunity and dove into the water. 

 

The cold hit her instantly, but a youth spent swimming in the stream on the farm during the rainy seasons had hardened her body to the shock and she ignored it as she swam deftly across the moat, rising minimally above the water for breaths. Within what felt like moments she was there, gripping onto the grate, which on closer inspection was only a short opening into the castle. She stayed there for a few moments, gathering her breath, and resolutely not allowing herself to think about what had happened back in the forest, where she had been forced to leave Athos, Aramis, Porthos and Rochefort to their attackers.

 

"Please, God," she whispered. "Keep them safe."

 

She shook her head, banishing them more successfully this time, and took a deep breath then slid under the water, ducking under the short portcullis and into the tunnel behind it. Inside, she opened her eyes and saw light ahead of her. Rising to the top, she found a small opening of air between the roof and the water and rested there for a few moments, taking deep breaths. Finally, she dove under again, and into a tunnel that would have no space for breathing. At the end, she found her way blocked by a metal grate and quickly unsheathed her knife to help her break it free. Luckily, the water had done its job and weakened the metal enough that after a few moments it gave way. 

 

Her lungs bursting with desperation, she swam quickly to the patch of light ahead of her, lying on top of the water. Bursting through the spotlight, she heaved in mouthfuls of air as she found herself at the base of the well that Rochefort had rightly told her would be here. Looking above her, her eyes widened at the height of the sheer wall she was going to have to climb, using every bit of strength she could muster. She only allowed herself to rest for a few moments before she started the painful climb to the top, hampered briefly by the bucket that chased her up the well and flattened her against the wall, and the unsuspecting servant who she met at the top. 

 

For once, she cursed being the smallest of them all. That was what had got her into this mess of breaking in alone in the first place.

 

"Next time," she muttered as she heaved the unconscious servant over her shoulder and dragged him across the courtyard as quickly as possible, "We find a bigger well and Porthos can bloody do it."

 

She managed to haul the man into a chamber that was clearly some sort of personal room. Once there she debated quickly with herself whether she should steal the man’s clothes, but while she was still debating the door opened and a woman walked through it and headed for the bath that d’Artagnan hadn’t even noticed on her weighed down entrance into the room. Peering through the wooden screen that divided the room, she felt surging panic. Who was this woman? Her mouth dropped as the woman stripped off to just her long underwear, and she quickly stepped out and spoke softly with her hands raised in a gesture of peace as she gave the poor woman a heart attack.

 

Twenty minutes later, d’Artagnan had managed to calm down what turned out to be their target’s sister, kept her secret intact, disguised as a guard and been brought into the presence of General De Foix and explained her presence there in his prison. Now, they waited.

 

Charline was positive the general knew exactly what her instructions were if help did not arrive soon, but she had a feeling that Lucie was not entirely aware of what may happen. The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slowly and beads of sweat began to break out like beads of misery on d’Artagnan’s neck as she realised the time was coming when she would have to act.

 

Her misery was accelerated when noise was heard outside and she finally stood to face De Foix, but as expected he reacted with grace, and stopped his sister when she objected, loudly. Charline aimed her pistol and took a deep breath.

 

Never had she been so glad to see Porthos’ lovely face as he burst through the door a moment later, a pistol in each hand, and a large grin on his face when he saw her.

 

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Charline was almost asleep at the reins when they rode into the barracks days later. The exhilaration of their escape from the prison, the horror of standing on one side of the ravine watching Athos get shot at with only Rochefort to back him up, the dismay at watching General De Foix slowly weaken after being shot, all of it had brought her quickly to exhaustion as they made their way home, and after riding with minimal stops all the way back to Paris, she was in desperate need of a bath, some proper food, and the longest sleep she could manage. Preferably squeezed as tightly to Athos as she could get.

 

But she couldn’t be selfish. As soon as they entered the yard, she jumped down from her horse, helping Lucie down after her and quickly letting go. She was pretty much convinced that the woman had taken a bit of a liking to her, which made her a tad uncomfortable, and Porthos and Aramis more than a tad amused. Leaving Lucie, she watched the captain greet his old friend then followed the procession that took him up the stairs to the medical room. As Aramis and Porthos took him inside, she felt a touch on her arm and turned to see Athos following the captain to his office. She took the hint and followed, closing the door behind her.

 

Quickly, they filled Treville in on everything that happened, taking advantage of Rochefort’s absence as he had ridden on to his apartment to ‘clean up and rest’ Such were the advantages of not being a musketeer.

 

Treville was clearly interested in the fact they had been attacked by a random party who just happened to meet them, and he was clearly angry at Rochefort’s killing of their captive. He was fidgety though, and Charline could clearly see that he was worried for the general. He asked for no extended explanations of anything, or any opinions of anything that had happened. Instead he thanked them for the recount, told them they would all be reporting to the palace that evening, and swept from the room.

 

As soon as the door closed, Athos’ arm stretched around d’Artagnan’s shoulder and pulled her round and into him. She sighed as his arms came around her and her nose tucked itself into his neck. She resisted the temptation to slump in his arms and make her carry her full weight.

 

“You should get some sleep,” he murmured into her hair.

 

“Just me?” she asked.

 

“We’re all tired, and we will all sleep, but your suspicions of Rochefort have had you more on edge than usual, and you haven’t slept properly for two weeks.”

 

“Can I just stay here?” she mumbled, smiling when she felt him vibrate with chuckles.

“Not if you don’t want dropped to the ground before long. I may not have time for sleep, but I am rather tired.”

 

She pulled away with a huff and tried to scowl at him, but it turned quickly into a yawn. He laughed softly at her, pulling her in gently to kiss her.

 

“Bed,” he ordered. “I’ll come and get you as soon as anything happens.”

 

“No-”

 

“No more than an hour,” he interrupted her, knowing fine well what she was about to demand.

 

Rolling her eyes at him, she gave into the temptation and took the offer of rest. She really hadn’t slept much, with one eye on Rochefort practically all the time. He followed her out of the office and stopped at the top of the stairs as she walked past them towards her room. She turned to smile at him as she reached the corner, then heard his footsteps going down the stairs as she entered. Deciding that sleep would come before cleaning up, she flopped straight onto the bed and was asleep in minutes.

 

She woke with a start. Not fear this time, but with the sudden knowledge of someone who had slept longer than they planned to. Somehow, she knew that she had slept longer than she had been promised, and at least two hours had passed. Scrambling from the bed, she shrugged off her disgusting clothes and used the horrendously cold water in the wash bowl in her room to wipe of as much of the grime as she could. The only time she slowed down in her rapid ablutions and dressing was to fasten some clean bindings around her breasts. She could never be too careful about that.

 

Throwing open the door, she had proof that her instincts were correct. The sun had moved enough in the sky that she had been asleep for as much as two hours. She was going to kill Athos!

 

Approximately five seconds later, her anger at being allowed to oversleep had evaporated. She stepped out onto the balcony to make her way down to the yard, and within a few steps she had frozen.

 

This was an entirely new feeling to her. Never before had she felt this mix of horror, humiliation, fury and shock. She was scared, embarrassed, powerless. She wanted to kill something, everything. She wanted to kill herself briefly, then she wanted to kill _them_. Then she was mortified to realise that she had completely got things wrong.

 

For there, in front of her, half way down the steps into the yard, Lucie De Foix had her arms around Athos’ neck, and her lips pressed firmly against his.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit shorter again, but it's either that or another week I think, so hopefully it's worth it!
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> B xx

Her body ordered a hasty retreat, but her feet wouldn’t obey. Her heart ordered her to start screaming, in anger or in pain, but her mouth was not co-operating. Instead she stood, for what must have only been a second, taking in the horror in front of her, of Lucie, pressed tightly against Athos. She watched has his hands came up to grip Lucie’s shoulders and she moved away from him. From this distance, d’Artagnan couldn’t work out what was being said, but she could see that Athos was speaking quietly to Lucie, who nodded after a moment, then stepped past him to enter the room where her brother lay in his sick bed.

Suddenly free of her inability to move, she moved to take a step forward, but paused again as Athos turned to go down the steps and froze himself. Confusion swept over her for only a moment before she heard the icy tones of Constance, demanding that he tell her how the general was, so that she might pass the information on to their queen. Athos answered her in his own clipped tones, making no effort to explain himself to what was evidently a furious Constance, and Charline felt her heart break just a little. It had been a long time since he had made her feel this way.

Staying in the shadows of her vantage point, she heard the angry footsteps of Constance stalking back out of the yard, and watched Athos’ head droop to his chest in defeat. He stayed there for a moment before making his way down the stairs, calling for Aramis and Porthos as he went. Still d’Artagnan waited in the shadows, bravely fighting the tears that were threatening to choke her.

She should ask him about it; there must be a perfectly simple explanation to what she had witnessed. Yet somehow she couldn’t bear to ask. How cowardly could she get? But there was that little voice in the back of her head that pointed out to her Lucie’s obvious beauty, of the simplicity of a life with someone like her, rather than hiding a relationship with a stubborn woman who pretended to be a boy so that she might fight and battle for her country alongside him. Perhaps he had been tempted for a moment, however much he professed to love her. However much she believed that he might.

Lurching forwards, she rested her hands on the wooden railing that ran along the balcony. Breathing deeply, she forced the negative thoughts back, urging the confidence she had in Athos to come forth, but it was a difficult battle.

“D’Artagnan? Is that you?”

Dammit. She froze as Porthos called for her. She had forgotten that her hands on the balcony would be seen, if not the shadow of her looming above them. To her shame, she panicked. She didn’t want to go down there as they would know instantly that something was wrong. She didn’t want to face Athos until she had more control over her thoughts. Taking a step back, she sharply pulled her hands away from the banister.

“D’Artagnan? Are you coming down?”

Shut up Porthos! She wanted to scream. She had no idea if Athos was still in the yard, and drawing attention to her present position was not helping her warring emotions. Seconds later, the batter of boots on the stairs told her that indeed Athos had been in the yard – and he knew exactly why she hasn’t come down.

Moving quickly, Charline opened the door to her rooms and slipped back inside. She paced for a few seconds, trying to decide which emotion she would lead their discussion with. When he opened the door and stepped through it, a frown crossing his brow, she had a clear winner.

“Don’t even start,” she hissed as he began to speak. “I am so angry at you Athos, and I can’t even shout at your properly in case someone might hear us!”

“I take it you saw Lucie kiss me?” he asked infuriatingly calmly.

“What I _saw_ ,” she growled. “Was her pressed up against you and your lips pressed _together_.”

“And did you see me push her away?”

“I didn’t see you push anyone, Athos. I saw you kissing, each other.”

“No, d’Artagnan. What you saw was Lucie kiss me. She must have kissed me just as you saw, because our lips touched for about two seconds before I pushed her away.”

He was still being far too calm, and horrendously reasonable. It made Charline want to unleash her full temper and scream at him.

“Is this what I am to expect Athos? Is this your way of hiding me?”

She knew she was being altogether ridiculous. Even before they had fallen in love Athos had hardly been a womaniser. It still hurt.

Athos dropped his chin to his chest with a sigh. “D’Artagnan,” he said. “I cannot do anything about the fact that she kissed me. I didn’t encourage her, I didn’t respond. All I did was push her away and apologise for anything I had done that made her think that I was interested.”

Charline glared at him, but she had nothing to accuse him of. She had thought that Lucie had taken a liking to _her_ , after all.

“Then I told her that I was not available to her, or anyone, and she smiled at me and went to see her ailing brother.”

The fact that he had told Lucie that he was not available, that he had insinuated that Charline existed, stopped her for a moment. She could see that he was telling the truth.

“Can we be done with this now, please?” Athos asked, working hard to keep his exasperation out of his tone.

Being reasonable when she was hurt was clearly still not a skill that d’Artagnan possessed. Half of her wanted to tell him that she believed him, that she loved him, and move on. The other half of her was still furious that he had even let Lucie get close enough to him to kiss him in the first place.

Athos stared at her in her silence. She could see his own anger and frustration at her mistrust growing.  After several moments with neither of them moving or speaking, he finally narrowed his eyes at her.

“I came up here to check that you were alright, having seen something that must have hurt you. I understand that. I have been there before, if you will remember.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at his reference to Alain, as her would-be fiancé had never been mentioned since Lupiac by either of them.

“I have explained what happened, I have apologised...”

“No, you haven’t!” she snapped.

“I would have if you had been at all reasonable with me, d’Artagnan,” he growled back. “I can explain nothing else to you, and I refuse to waste my time talking to you until you willing to listen.”

With his speech finished, he turned on his heel and swept out of the room, leaving her gaping after him. How dare he? How dare he be angry with her?

She ignored the part of her brain that was telling her that her stubbornness had yet again expanded their rift into something entirely new. After all, she was absolutely stubborn enough to keep hold of her anger until he was ready to actually apologise.

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Early evening found them at the palace as planned, listening to the King praise the actions of Rochefort, and ignore entirely any actions on the part of the musketeers in retrieving General de Foix. D’Artagnan could feel Porthos’ irritation radiating from him, and all of them stiffened in various levels of horror when the King announce that Rochefort would be the new captain of the red guards.

Charline tried to ignore the sick feeling that coursed through her at the announcement. She managed it almost as well as she had ignored Athos in the last two hours. Arami and Porthos must have been filled in by Athos, as they wisely were keeping out of things, for once.

D’Artagnan felt slightly heartened by the presence of Constance in the chamber, who was sparing a lot of energy to glare at Athos like she would murder him if she was free to. Charline had no way of knowing if he was aware of the ill-feeling being directed at him, as she had fallen into place in the chamber between Porthos and Aramis to avoid him, and he had taken things one step further by standing on the opposite side of the room from all of them, beside Treville.

On their dismissal from the room, Porthos began to grumble about the lack of appreciation they got from the King. Aramis pointed out that they never got any appreciation, and then walked ahead of them quickly before either of them had a chance to respond.

“Where is he going?” Porthos asked.

“No idea,” she replied truthfully, but she had a horrible feeling that it was something do with whatever secret he and Athos shared. She wanted to glance over at Athos to see if he had noticed Aramis’ exit, but she stopped herself.

“He hasn’t said anything about any of the palace ladies, has he?” Porthos wondered.

“Not to me,” d’Artagnan shrugged.

They walked in silence outside to find their horses, then waited patiently for the others to arrive. They had several minutes. Charline could tell that Porthos was desperate to say something to her about the events of the afternoon, but thankfully he kept his thoughts to himself and allowed her to ignore him and move around the horses, tightening tackle that was perfectly fine.

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“I can’t actually believe that we are having to do this,” Porthos murmured to her as he appeared at her side.

“I hate that feeling that everything is about to go hideously wrong,” Charline replied drily. Porthos chuckled and joined her for a moment in her watch across the tavern, every now and again returning their attention to the figure of Louis XIII of France as he got drunk and played cards as part of his much looked forward to ‘night as a commoner’.

“The captain will kill us,” she continued.

“Most likely, but I can think of worse ways to go,” he grinned at her then made his way back to the card table, taking his seat beside the King again.

When the fight broke out, d’Artagnan was ashamed to realise she had been taken by surprise. She had allowed herself to get distracted watching Athos hovering in the shadows beside or behind the King. It had been over a week since Lucie, since the rift that opened up between them like a chasm the size of the canyon they had fled over in Spain, and they still were not really speaking. They were civil and professional, but she was still stubbornly refusing to accept his explanation, and he was too damn proud to try again. So instead they had reverted back to the frostiness that had existed between them some months ago; it was almost like she had told him the truth about her sex all over again.

Today she had begun to regret her attitude. She had awoken that morning from a very happy dream, and had instantly bereft to open her eyes and find herself in her room at the barracks, alone as she had been since this had all happened. She had gone down to breakfast with an empty heart, that had started beating hard when she spotted Athos seated at the table, talking with Bernajoux, an ageing musketeer. She had slid quietly into her seat, murmuring a greeting to both of them, and sat quietly, watching Athos has he conversed easily with his old comrade. Once he glanced in her direction long enough to make eye contact, but she wasn’t quick enough to make herself react and she had seen a flash of sadness in his eyes and turned away again.

For the rest of the day she had been kicking herself for not smiling at him - for not doing _something_ \- and she hadn’t been able to get him alone to speak to him. Stubbornness be damned; she missed him.

And so now, when the shouting started and there was a sudden flurry of movement, she found herself a few seconds behind and heard her name being shouted across the tavern. Quickly she fought her way through the building melee and found herself with an armful of King, who she quickly dragged over to the bewildered-looking innkeeper.

“Gus, is there another way out?” she asked frantically, holding tightly onto the King’s jacket as he tried to squirm round to get a better view in his horrified fascination of his first bar fight.

She was acutely aware of Athos’ presence at her back, as he and Porthos took on the angry patrons.

“The back door,” Gus said eagerly. “This way.”

The man disappeared quickly into a room behind the bar, but Charline hesitated before she followed him, seeking out Athos to communicate her intentions. She caught his eye quickly and he nodded at her, a gesture she returned with a sad smile before she turned her attention back to her King.

“Come on,” she growled at him, pulling him towards the door. “Before they kill you!”

Evidently she had said the magic words as Louis suddenly focused and moved quickly with her. Gus shut the door behind them and crossed the storage room they found themselves in to open the one at the other end.

“Out here,” he said. “Quickly.”

D’Artagnan led the way, sword drawn, with the King close to her back. The door shut behind them and d’Artagnan spun round, surprised to find that Gus had gone back inside, and more so to find that there was no handle on this side of the door. With one arm she pushed the King against the wall, stretching her sword out with the other as she slowly looked around to see what their exit options were. They appeared to be in an alley that was entirely closed off at one end, leaving only one option available to them.

“Should we wait here?” the King asked. “For the others.”

“Hold on, sire,” she whispered, the last word especially quiet. “Something isn’t quite right.”

Just moments after she had spoken, there was movement in the darkness and four bodies emerged out of the darkness, approaching them from the open end of the alley.

“Get behind me, quickly,” she whispered urgently, crouching into a fighting stance at the same time that she acknowledged to herself that she had no chance of coming out of this on top.

She gave it a good shot though, her sword making contact with at least two of their assailants before she noticed that the other two had taken hold of Louis. She lowered her sword and reached out a hand.

“Wait, please...”

The blow to the back of her head registered briefly, giving her enough time to think that things couldn’t possibly get any worse, before everything inevitably went black.

 


	5. Chapter 5

What was that she had thought about things not getting any worse? Not much less than two days ago d’Artagnan had been starting to believe that the most difficult thing about this whole episode was listening to the King prattling on, and trying to stop him putting his foolish ideas, like telling their captors who he really was, into motion. She had even lost a little of her concern about her secret being discovered for the moment, as it appeared that no one was going to come close enough to her to find anything out, and the King of course paid little attention to anyone but himself.

He had managed to redeem himself a little in her eyes when he finally spoke to her like he was a normal man; scared of living up to his position, scared of being a proper father to his son. For a moment he was human and, as well as the unyielding loyalty she felt towards him as King, she realised that she actually liked him as a person.

After this, she had stupidly thought that as they were sure to be rescued, if she could just keep the King calm until that time then she would be as safe as she could be in the present circumstances. If they got as far as the ships they were being enslaved to then her secret wouldn’t much matter. Either way, she was in for a lot of pain and an unpleasant death.

Except that now, on feeling someone hovering over her in her dozing sleep, she had reached up a hand to snatch the wrist of her viewer and snapped her eyes open to find those of Milady de Winter gazing back at her with a pistol in her hand which was aimed at d’Artagnan’s face.

There wasn’t even time for her to process the emotions that rammed into her all at once before the spectre before her spoke, quickly and quietly.

“Why, little d’Artagnan,” a hint of a smile played around her lips. “How unfortunate.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Charline managed to spit back. “You’re supposed to be...”

“In England?” this time the smile was real. “Yes, I know. Rather dreary though, don’t you think? Haven’t you learned by now, that I can get myself out of anything?”

“Apparently so,” d’Artagnan’s hand automatically reached for the hilt of her sword, even though it had obviously been removed from her at a much earlier time.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Milady admonished gently. “None of that my dear. Now here I am trying to help you, and your first instinct is to kill me? I’m hurt.”

D’Artagnan stared at her in horror. There was no continuance of this situation that she could see that was going to end well.

“What do you want?”

“To help you, didn’t I just say that?”

“And why would you want to help me? Last time we met your hatred for me was fairly clear. You did try to kill me after all,” she whispered fiercely.

“Now, now,” Milady said, stepping back a little and allowing d’Artagnan to sit up and lean against the tree she had been curled against. Sitting here, with her hands restrained, was bringing back horrifying memories as she looked into the cold, beautiful face of Athos’ wife. “You must understand, d’Artagnan, that at that time I was distressed at the behaviour of my patron, and I admit I may have overreacted.”

Charline snorted. “You mean you pissed off the Cardinal and he didn’t like it, so you took it out on me.”

“I am so glad that you understand. Now we must think of a way of getting you, and your friend, free.” Milady’s face was all innocence and concern.

So that was it. For a few minutes, being confronted by the prospect of Milady back in her life had made d’Artganan forget that she was currently tied to their King. Of course Milady had recognised him, and could probably see a million advantages to getting on his good side. So much for helping d’Artagnan. She wouldn’t be at all surprised to find a knife in her back at a later point.

“After all,” Milady continued. “We wouldn’t want anyone finding out your little secret, would we?”

At Charline’s disbelieving raised eyebrow the mad woman continued. “What would happen to our darling Athos then, hmm?”

Charline went cold. Milady had no reason to keep her secret; but she evidently thought she may have a reason to use it at some point - as a weapon against Athos. Since being taken she had been trying hard not to think of him too often, but this confrontation was threatening to bring back all of the feelings of loss and pain that she had been fighting down. She squared her shoulders against the tree trunk.

“I wouldn’t be so sure that people would believe the word of a murderer, Milady de Winter,” d’Artagnan scoffed. “And you have the marks to prove your past. I think it would be easier to display them than to persuade anyone they needed to strip search a musketeer.”

“Oh, have you become a musketeer? How nice for you,” she laughed as Charline’s face reddened slightly. “Ah now, let’s not quarrel, darling. Let’s just agree for now that I’ll keep your secret, and you will keep mine? I rather like France you know, I would rather stay here.”

The King stirred behind Charline, finally woken by the quiet conversation next to him. Milady was looking at her, her eyes open and clear. She wasn’t hiding anything, for now. With no other option, Charline nodded, and Milady immediately sprung into action and transformed herself into some sort of concerned citizen; a victim herself, who would do everything she could to help. It was all d’Artagnan could do to stop herself rolling her eyes at her.

The following hours proved to Charline fairly quickly that Milady was indeed out for her own ends. After their brief escape, once back in the possession of their captors it was clear that Milady had been travelling with this group of snatchers for some time, probably since bribing whoever was supposed to be taking her out of France, but she was quick to turn on them when the King started to show gratitude for her help.

A shoot out with another group of bandits found Charline and the King fighting side by side, then rescued once again by a smiling Milady. There was absolutely nothing within d’Artagnan that would allow her to thank the woman, but by the way the King was becoming clearly more and more enamoured with her, d’Artagnan’s own thanks would not be necessary. Yet again, she had a very bad feeling about what was happening in front of her, and with absolutely no power to stop it.

Their ‘rescue’ gave them a brief respite in the woods, but it was all too soon before the sound of galloping hooves invaded the air around them and Charline found herself having to trust a simpering Milady alone with the King, as she made them hide and advanced into the road to meet whoever was coming for them this time.

Her knees almost buckled as she spotted the figures rising towards her, instantly recognising the proud seat of Athos as he led the group. A sob almost escaped her throat as she staggered into the road in front of them, her eyes never leaving Athos so that she saw the instant that he spotted her, his pale and drawn face lighting up for a moment then frowning with worry as he took in her bedraggled state. He threw himself from his horse and strode towards her in the seconds it took for Aramis and Porthos to catch up, along with another man she couldn’t even be bothered to look at to check if she recognised.

As Athos approached her his arms opened and she allowed herself to fall into them. She was aware of Porthos striding past them, evidently to look for the King so that they could have a moment without him interrupting, while Aramis kept their prisoner under the aim of his pistol.

Athos had one hand pressed to her back, pulling her towards him so tightly she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. The other was resting on the back of her head, pulling her face tightly into his shoulder as he bent slightly to bury his face in her hair. With others nearby they couldn’t hold their stance, and with a reluctance she had never experienced before, d’Artagnan stepped back from his arms and looked at him. She just had enough time to register the pain in his eyes before footsteps behind her made her turn to see Porthos emerging from the sparse shelter of the trees, his face cold with fury as he led a happy King and a smug Milady behind him.

Charline felt Athos tense instantly beside her and she expected him to explode at any moment, but when she glanced at his face he remained calm and in control, not batting an eyelid as the King began to praise Milady to the skies, speaking of her bravery in rescuing them, and making a fool of himself in front of people who knew her for what she really was. She nearly choked when he announced that her rescue of them was enough to pardon her for all crimes in her past. Athos quickly strode away over to his horse, unable to watch the events unfolding. Aramis began to speak, but Athos quickly interrupted him as the sound of horses in the distance reached their ears, still facing away from them, and instructed Porthos to accompany the King and ‘the lady’ back to Paris, telling d’Artagnan to go with them.

She refused. One glance at her face was evidently enough to tell Athos that she was not going to be persuaded, and he let it drop. Porthos approached them, stepping away from the King and Milady, who immediately began to speak quietly to each other.

“Are you insane,” Porthos hissed. “Why am I bringing her safely back to the city we banished her from?”

“Because we can do nothing about it,” Athos said calmly.

“We could at least try,” Porthos snapped back. Charline found herself agreeing, and her frustration building. Was he going to do nothing to get rid of her? His continued calmness was beginning to annoy her too.

“She knows d’Artagnan’s secret, Porthos,” he pointed out. “We cannot afford to antagonise her just now.”

Aramis was straining to hear from the outskirts of their conversation, his pistol still trained on their prisoner.

“And I were to...”

“Porthos!” Athos finally snapped. “The King has just pardoned her for all of her crimes. If she accuses d’Artagnan just now we are finished. Go with them, and make sure she keeps her mouth shut.”

Porthos was clearly still not satisfied but the horses were approaching now, and he quickly mounted, calling on the King and Milady to follow suit. As they were leaving the King turned and offered their prisoner, who d’Aartgnan finally recognised as the relative of their captor who had turned up earlier, clemency of his own if he would fight at the side of his musketeers. As the man eagerly accepted and Aramis reluctantly cut free his hands, d’Artagnan couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to be another mistake on Louis’ part, or if the man would actually help them. She had little time to question it Athos gruffly ordered her and Aramis to conceal themselves round the side of a large rock wall, while he and Lemaitre hid amongst the trees at the side of the road.

Aramis appeared to want to have a casual chat during the ensuing battle.

“If you get kidnapped again, d’Artagnan,” he said, leaning around her to fire a shot. “When we find you, I will kill you myself.”

“Sorry?” Charline gaped at him.

“Or if you do anything else that leaves me with an Athos in that kind of state again,” he finished, raising a telling eyebrow at her.

“Oh,” she said. “He wasn’t very happy then?”

This time she leaned around to take a shot.

“To say the least,” Aramis replied dryly, firing another shot quickly. “Do you remember when Porthos lost his hat?”

“You mean when you stole his hat?”

“Semantics,” he said dismissively, waving a hand. They both leaned around to fire shots, then everything went quiet. “You remember though? You remember how temperamental he was? How morose? How much everyone avoided him because they were scared he would growl at them?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at his exaggerated comparison.

“Like that, but if I’d stolen his favourite boots too.”

“Ah.”

“Exactly.”

She chuckled, but stopped when a voice called from the distance.

“Wait, is that...” she stared at Aramis, her eyes opening in shock as she recognised the voice. Aramis nodded at her. “Gus? Gus did this?”

“He’s been doing it for years apparently.”

“They’ve had enough,” Athos called over, and true enough when Charline listened she could hear the sound of a quick retreat. She heard Gus shout at his retreating men, and another gun shot as he took out his frustration on them.

Aramis stepped out from behind the rock, followed by Charline, while Athos and Bruno emerged from the trees. Aramis raised his gun to shoot Gus, who was shouting at them with his sword raised, but Charline put out a hand to stop him, lowering the weapon as she announced that she would deal with Gus herself. She stepped over towards Athos, letting her anger wash through her as she thought about the men who had died needlessly that afternoon, and the many men who must have been taken before and used as slaves. This man, this animal, was responsible for all of it, and if he was going to die, then she was going to kill him.

Athos raised a teasing eyebrow as she reached him and pulled his scarf sharply from his neck. She felt a shiver go through her at the look in his eyes, but she pushed the feeling away, concentrating fully on the loathing that sharpened further when she turned and walked slowly towards a still-shouting Gus, wrapping the material tightly round her hand as she did. Gus kicked his horse into a gallop, sword still raised towards her. Charline continued walking calmly towards him, reaching up as he approached her and with all her strength pulled him from the animal’s back with her hand tightly gripping the blade of the sword, protected by Athos’ scarf. As he landed on the ground beside her she twisted round and thrust the sword deep into his abdomen, then stood swiftly and walked away. She said nothing to him the entire time.

Athos was still standing where she had left him, watching her with a strange mixture of pride and concern. Reaching him, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and let him soothe her, to hold him and kiss him like she had been dreaming of doing since she had been taken, or since their argument if she was honest with herself. An argument that she now saw had been unnecessarily lengthened by the combination of both of their stubborn natures. She had regretted it before being taken, but in the last few days when she had thought she may never see him again she had been devastated by the thought that things had not been right between them when they parted.  She wanted to move them beyond it, right now, but she couldn’t. There was still a stranger amongst them.

Clearly Athos read the weariness and turmoil on her face, as he took the situation in hand at once.

“Aramis, take Bruno and head back towards Paris. D’Artagnan and I will go to the camp and clear everything up there and then follow.” His eyes never left her face the whole time that he spoke.

“Of course,” was all that Aramis said in reply, and in a few moments both he and Bruno had left the clearing and were on their way.

As soon as the hoof beats had faded away, Athos reached out and pulled d’Artagnan to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her and catching her as her knees gave way and she began to sob. He slowly lowered them both to the ground, until he was kneeling down and she was clutched to his chest, her arms winding round his neck as she pressed her face tightly against his.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered against him.

He pulled back from her and looked at her in surprise. “d’Artagnan?”

“I never wanted to push you away, I didn’t,” she was babbling now, but she couldn’t control the emotions running through her, but she was aware that relief was the strongest of them all. She took his face in her hands and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. “I love you. I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.”

He had tears in his eyes to match hers as he leaned forward and pressed their lips together, their mouths opening as they deepened the kiss simultaneously. They kissed frantically and with a great need to know that the other was there, and that the love they felt was known.

“Never again,” he whispered fiercely as they pulled away with gasping breaths. “I’ll never let you down again, Charline, I swear.”

“Shh,” she whispered back, a tear trickling down her cheek when she saw how devastated he was. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s my job to protect you,” he shook his head, pulling her against him once more so that she leaned against his chest and rested his chin on top of her head. “I lost you. We had to go to see Poupart...I’ve never felt like that, ever. I can’t do that again, I can’t.”

She shushed him again, and this time he stopped talking. She tightened her arms around him, shifting to get comfortable. It mattered not that they were in a clearing in the middle of nowhere, with Gus’ dead body lying beside them, or that they had to get back to Paris and back to the palace, that they should be following the others and trying to catch up with Porthos, the King and Milady. What mattered was that they were together, and they had a moment to be alone. D’Artagnan found herself thinking that she could happily stay in this spot, and in his arms, forever.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Always.”

She felt a kiss pressed to the top of her head, and closed her eyes, with the first proper smile on her face for days.

They would deal with Milady later. They would have to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again! Illness then catching up with work got in my way I'm afraid, but I'll soon be all caught up then I should have time to get cracking!
> 
> Please let me know what you think...
> 
> B x

D’Artagnan threw herself up the stairs, bursting through the door of Athos’ rooms and slumping against the door out of breath when she closed it behind her. Athos shot to his feet from where he had been lounging on the bed, waiting for her, and was at her side instantly.

“What?” he sounded slightly panicked. “What is it?”

She just shook her head, unable to speak while her heart was beating so rapidly and her lungs refused to inflate. Athos’ hands cupped her jaw and lifted her head so that she was looking into his eyes.

“You’re scaring me a little, d’Artagnan,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

She managed to shake her head and gasp out a “no...fine”, before she leaned forward to press her forehead against Athos’ shoulder. His arms immediately wound round her and she felt herself relax as he held her. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths, and pressed her hands into his back, concentrating on his hands running up and down her back in a soothing motion. This was not how she had planned to greet him after two days apart, but she could hardly pretend it hadn’t happened.

After a few minutes, her breathing calmed, she pulled out of the embrace and looked into his worried face.

“I’m alright, I just...oh, Athos,” she said, unable to keep the despair from her voice.

He led her over to the bed without saying anything, sitting himself down against the wall and pulled her down to curl beside him. “What happened,” he asked, finally. “Did something happen to Constance?”

“No, no I saw her as planned, she’s fine. It was...someone else,” she trailed off. She really didn’t want to have to tell him.

“Was it Anne?” he asked stiffly.

“Milady? No. I still haven’t had sight of her since the palace.” She suppressed a shudder at the memory of that horrible meeting with the king, listening to Milady being praised for her bravery and her assistance, then the horror of being ‘rewarded’ by being allowed to murder someone. Since then they had avoided palace duty, knowing that the king’s displeasure at her refusal to carry out his orders would come back to bite all of them soon enough. She shook the memory from her head as Athos spoke again.

“I can’t help you unless you actually tell me what happened, Charline.”

She sighed. “I met with Constance, keeping to the gardens in the palace where we knew the king would not appear, and we spent the afternoon catching up. It was as I was leaving that I saw him, and he saw me.”

“Who?” Athos urged. “Not Alain?”

“No, not Alain. It was Claude.”

“Claude?”

“My sister’s husband.”

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“So I don’t know what she’ll do next, but keep your eyes open Constance.”

“I will. I can’t believe it! I can’t believe she’s back.” Constance’s eyes were wide with shock.

“And pardoned, don’t forget pardoned,” Charline added, leaning her head back to rest against the bench they were seated on. She closed her eyes and let the sunlight bathe over her face, allowing herself a moment’s peace in what had been weeks fraught with worry since they had returned to the city.

“And you and Athos?”

Charline’s smile stretched over her face as she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at her friend sitting next to her. Constance just laughed at the look on her face.

“All fine then I take it?”

“All fine,” Charline grinned.

“By the look on your face it’s all a bit more than fine,” Constance giggled. D’Artagnan blushed a little, but continued to grin at her friend. Everything was, after all, a bit more than fine. Since her ordeal with the king she and Athos had been stuck to each other like glue. Their stubborn argument over Lucie’s kiss had been forgotten, and their relationship had been stronger than ever. A small mission for their captain that had taken Athos out of Paris two days ago accounted for the only time they had been apart since they got back, and she missed him. Her grin widened momentarily as she thought about their reunion that would be happening later that evening. But she still had an hour or so of catching up with Constance before she had to leave, and she was going to take it.

“And you? How are you, Constance?”

“I’m...happy,” the Queen’s maid answered, and Charline could see from the expression on her face that she was speaking the truth.

“I’m glad of it.”

“I love the Queen, she is so kind, so generous. She didn’t hesitate when I asked for some time this afternoon to catch up with you. Of course, she probably has the same suspicions my husband has, but that’s beside the point,” Constance laughed again, and d’Artagnan joined her. Now that she was here, Constance was in little danger from her husband’s assumptions about her relationship with d’Artagnan.

“And the baby,” Constance continued. “The Dauphin, he’s just beautiful.”

“Do you get to look after him much?”

“Not too often. Usually his nursemaid, Marguerite, is with him. But when he is with the Queen she is very happy to let me hold him. It’s clear to see how much she loves him.”

Both women stopped talking for a moment, and d’Artagnan let her mind flash to an unlikely picture of herself, holding a baby while Athos gazed at them in adoration. She shook it from her mind. Definitely not the time to let her mind get carried away!

They spent the next hour together happily, sitting on the bench they had found hidden near the wall of the gardens, then wandering amongst the topiary as their time came to an end. Eventually, they reached the gate at the end of the gardens, which d’Artagnan would leave through and skirt the palace to retrieve her horse. The long route was worth it to avoid the king.

“I am glad to see you so happy, that this has been the right move for you.”

Constance checked that nobody was nearby, then drew her into a quick hug. “It does me some good to see you so happy, d’Artagnan. And to know that I’m not going to have to continue to be angry at Athos.”

D’Artagnan pulled back and laughed. “He’ll be glad to hear it.”

They said their goodbyes and parted ways at the gate. It was as she approached the front of the palace that she saw them: a group of men, country men by the look of them, talking to some guards outside the palace. Clearly they were here to petition the king for some kind of help, and it looked as though the guard was on his way to allow them inside. As she approached a couple of them men glanced up, and she almost froze when one of them met her eyes. Luckily, her brain was switched on enough to make her keep going, pulling her eyes away from the confused face that looked back at her as she hurried by, praying that he wouldn’t work out why he recognised her face before she got out of there.

She mounted her horse and rode full speed back to the barracks, tossing the reins to a stable boy as she arrived, then running as fast as she could to Athos.

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“Do you think he will have worked it out, who you were?” Athos asked when she had told him what had happened.

“I don’t know! I really don’t,” she answered, sitting up to look at him.

“And if he did know you? You think he will be a danger to you, to us?”

She sighed and got to her feet, making her way to Athos’ table, which she now saw had been set out with food and wine so that they could enjoy a dinner together when she returned. She sent a half-smile at him when she realised, then turned and poured them both some wine.

“He would have no reason to say anything to the king,” she said, handing a cup of wine to Athos, who scooted forward to sit on the edge of the bed and take it from her.

“But?”

“He doesn’t like me,” she said bluntly, sitting next to him again. “He’s married to my second sister, Adalene. I was young when she left to marry him, and he much older than she was, but they came back at least once a year, to stay for a few weeks and check that my father was coping I suppose.”

Athos took her hand in his and entwined their fingers.

“As I got older I got more, well, impetuous? Stubborn? I don’t know.”

“You mean you started to become the person you are now?”

She glanced at Athos, who was suppressing a grin, and nudged him with her shoulder.

“I suppose you could say that,” she admitted. “Well, we fought a lot, mainly because I wouldn’t do what he told me, and because I answered back. He was becoming more and more important in his town, which I suppose is why he is in Paris to see the king, and he didn’t like that a 15-year-old girl refused to believe that he knew best.”

“Is he a good man?” Athos asked quietly. A question, she realised, that was the most important of all.

“I...I don’t know!” she realised with shock. “I have no idea, I never really got to know him. I suppose I resented him for taking Adalene away so soon after my mother died, and Odette had gone too. I spent so much of my energy arguing with him that I never had the time or the inclination to do more.”

“Well, there is nothing we can do tonight, d’Artagnan,” Athos stood and pulled her to her feet, putting his empty wine cup on the table. “Unless you want to spend our evening looking for him?”

She smiled as he pulled her tightly against his chest. He was trying to distract her from her concern, but he was right. Even if he had known her he would say nothing to the king. Trouble would come their way no sooner than tomorrow, and even then only if he had recognised her and asked about, and then turned up at the barracks. It seemed rather unlikely.

Leaning her head back, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to Athos’. She sank into him as soon as their lips met, remembering for the first time since she had burst through the door half an hour before that they had not seen each other in two days. Blindly she reached to the side, finding it eventually and clumsily placing her cup on it. Impediment gone, she stretched her fingers into Athos’ hair, laughing as he growled when her fingers scratched gently at his scalp, then squealing as he scooped her up and took them back to the bed, dropping her onto the mattress and stretching himself over her.

“What about the dinner you made?” she asked breathlessly between the kisses that were being peppered over her face.

He paused and looked at her incredulously. “You want to eat now?”

She tried to hold it in, but soon was laughing loudly at the expression on his face. She had never seen him look so disappointed, or so surprised. He looked at her for moment, affronted, then he snorted and joined in with his beautiful laugh that she never got to hear enough of.

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The next morning brought them no news of anyone asking of d’Artagnan, and indeed things were quiet in the barracks. The four of them spent their morning in training, another group of musketeers had gone with Treville to the palace, where he had been summoned first thing.

With no danger evident, Athos and d’Artagnan told Porthos and Aramis nothing. They were already worrying enough about Milady’s return amongst them, and the king’s displeasure at d’Artagnan’s disobedience, and the support she got from them for it. There was no need to add to their worries with something that was probably nothing, and Aramis was already distracted enough.

By lunch time, d’Artagnan had allowed herself to relax a little. If Claude de Sauvettere had been looking for her, he would have found her by now. She knew enough of him to know that he would not have let it rest.

It was as they were eating that Treville returned to the barracks, two musketeers in tow. The others had clearly been left behind at the palace.  There was an air of displeasure around their captain that was clear to all of them as he dismounted. The musketeers accompanying him led his horse with theirs towards the stables, while Treville made his way straight to where the inseparables were sitting.

Athos stood as he approached, tension clear in every muscle in his body as he tried to decipher the captain’s mood. Charline felt herself matching his tension with her own, while Porthos and Aramis were both frowning at him.

“What has happened?” Athos asked quietly as Treville reached them. The other three rose to their feet.

“The king has given his orders, and they must be obeyed.”

D’Artagnan watched warily as Treville began to pace in front of them, clearly frustrated.

“What is it, Captain?” Athos asked again, his patience clearly on its way to running out as his worry took over.

With a loud sigh, Treville sat down at their table, the four of them following suit. “The king has given instructions for a small group of musketeers to attend to a matter that was brought to his attention yesterday.”

D’Artagnan and Athos shared a quick look.

“He has decreed that this group shall travel to Valence, to put to rights a matter with the landowners and a Comte who is trying to push his neighbours out.”

At the name of the town Athos looked at d’Artagnan and raised his eyebrows in question. She nodded. Valence – the home of Claude and Adalene.

“A land dispute?” Porthos asked incredulously. “In Valence? They will never accept musketeer authority so far from Paris!”

“I know,” said Treville. “But that does not stop the king from passing this job to us, rather than sending a palace representative.”

“I assume this is punishment?” said Athos dryly.

“I imagine so.”

“Well, there are worse things he could have done,” Charline smiled weakly.

“True,” agreed Treville, but he did not quite meet her eyes.

“And maybe it will be better to be out of the way of Milady for a while,” Aramis pointed out.

“Although it will be difficult to keep an eye on what she is up to while we are out of Paris,” said Porthos.

“Assuming, that is, that the king has named which musketeers it is to be?” Athos asked, rasing an eyebrow at the captain.

Charline’s thoughts were whirling. She had convinced herself that her momentary meeting with Claude had brought no danger to her, and now she was being sent to follow him and walk straight into a place where there was people who knew her as herself, and where if she was to follow the king’s orders she must maintain her appearance as Charles d’Artagnan. Suddenly, she was terrified.

“This could take months, Captain,” Athos was saying. “Could the king not be convinced that it would be better for his safety, and for the safety of the Dauphin, that we not be sent away from the city for so long?”

Treville shook his head wearily. “He would not be convinced. He argued that any of my musketeers should be able to afford him the same protection, and that it should not matter who was sent south.”

“So it is punishment.”

“Yes, it is.”

Charline watched the captain carefully. “What else?”

Treville looked at her sadly.

“There’s something else, Captain. What is it?”

Treville’s tension suddenly swept over them all, and d’Artagnan found herself groping for Athos’ hand under the table.

“Yes, he has named the musketeers to go, and yes, it will most likely take two or three months to complete the mission.”

“But?” Porthos growled.

“But he has not named the four of you.”

“What? Then who...?” Charline frowned in confusion.

There was sympathy clear in their captain’s eyes when he met hers. “Only three of you will go.”

“Only three? Then we need to decide-”

“No, d’Artagnan. The king has made his choice.”

“But-”

“Athos. Athos stays behind.”


	7. Chapter 7

The conversation going on behind her was quiet, but just not quite quiet enough.

“I still think she’s holding back,” Aramis hissed.

“Of course she is, I’m just saying that she’s not the one we need to be worried about,” Porthos whispered back.

“I don’t think so. I don’t see that he’ll be any worse than she will when she cracks.”

“He’s not necessarily going to be worse, Aramis, he’s going to be different.”

Riding ahead of her companions, d’Artagnan resisted the urge to turn round and roll her eyes at her friends. They had been having various versions of this conversation for the two weeks they had been on the road, and they still seemed to think that she hadn’t heard almost every one. Aramis and Porthos had proved to be even tenser that she was, apparently waiting for her to burst into a rage, or into a sobbing mess of misery at being made to leave Athos behind. Perhaps she would have, if she wasn’t still holding onto her anger at the king for making this happen. Still, as the anger was sure to fade, then her devastation at being pulled away from Athos for what could prove to be months would most surely take over. It was already trying to when she buried herself under her blankets at night.

Now, however, Porthos said something that made her stiffen slightly in the saddle.

“He’s going to be alone, Aramis. He’s bad enough dealing with things when we’re there to keep an eye on him. What is he going to do without us?”

Porthos was right! She’d managed to not think too much about what Athos could revert to at the loss, however temporary, of _all_ of them, not just her. She knew from their stories of the past just how difficult it had been to get Athos to open up to his brothers in the first place, and she knew exactly how bad he had got when at his worst.

“Treville knows,” Aramis countered, although the tone of his voice betrayed his concern. “He’ll keep an eye out for Athos. He’ll keep him busy. Distracted.”

“He better. All the same, we better get this dealt with quickly.”

She heard the slow walk of the horses behind her quicken their pace, and suddenly Aramis and Porthos were beside her.

“Not long to go now, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said easily. “We should be there by mid day.”

“You still sure you want to do this?”

She nodded. “I don’t think there’s another way, do you?”

Porthos sighed. “No, still haven’t thought of anything.”

“Then that’s what we’re doing,” she said firmly.

Not long into their journey Charline had decided that they needed to meet the potential awkwardness of this whole thing head on, and the first thing they would do was find her sister and explain everything to her. She just hoped that Adalene was receptive to the explanations.

True enough, the sun was approaching its highest point in the sky when they reached the path that marked the edge of Claude de Sauvettere’s land. D’Artagnan paused for a moment before turning her horse towards the house, followed closely by Aramis and Porthos. The path led them through the wooded area that surrounded Claude’s land until it opened before them into a huge space with the house standing in the middle of it. It wasn’t an enormous house, nothing like Athos’ house at la Fere, but it was impressive nonetheless. It stood at two storeys, washed white with plants growing up each corner of the building. The space of land in front was well maintained, with the farming buildings round the back hidden from sight.

“It’s exactly as she described it,” d’Artagnan murmured as Aramis and Porthos came to rest beside her where she’d stopped.

“You haven’t been here before?” Porthos asked, surprised.

Charline shook her head. “No, we only saw them when they came to us. Papa wouldn’t leave the farm at Lupiac very long, but Claude had men he could put in charge of his land while he was away. I think my sister insisted on visiting home once a year anyway.”

“What about now? With your father gone?”

“She knows that Papa was sending me to Paris when he died, and that’s where I’ve stayed, and she knows the Bertrand’s family have been looking after it. She knows about the fire too.”

“And she doesn’t mind that you haven’t returned home?” Aramis asked.

“Now that I do not know,” d’Artagnan sighed. “But I suppose I should find out.” She slid down from the saddle, passing the reins to Porthos before she walked up to the door of the house, knocking loudly. As she waited for sounds from inside the house she found herself unsure if she really wanted to hear any or not. Perhaps another day before she had to explain things to her sister would be a good thing.

It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps approaching that told her it was now or never.

“Can I help you?” Adalene asked as she opened the door, looking quickly at d’Artagnan then glancing at the two mounted soldiers on her land. Charline took a moment to look her sister over. She was as beautiful as the last time she had seen her, which must be nearly two years before. Her black hair fell in curls down her back, and her large, dark eyes distracted from her slightly too-long nose. Her rosy mouth dropped open when her gaze returned to d’Artagnan. “Charline?”

“Adalene!” Charline laughed, unable to stop herself throwing her arms around her eldest sister and pulling her into a hug. After a moment Adalene’s arms wrapped round d’Artagnan’s torso, squeezing her into an even tighter hold.

“I can’t believe it, why are you here?” Adalene asked before pushing her away and looking her up and down. “And why on earth are you dressed like that?”

“That, my dear sister is a very long story. Can we come in?”

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It took three hours to get through the entire story, not helped by Aramis and Porthos chiming in with little comments from time to time, or insisting that she include things that she had planned to miss out, like their time escorting the queen during her summer tour and the little midnight swim she had taken before falling asleep over a tree. She blushed furiously when Adalene laughed, and replied with stories from childhood of finding little Charline asleep in the most random of places, from the chicken pen to lying over the back of her father’s, thankfully patient, old horse, Buttercup.

When at last they had finished, thankfully without any mention of Milady de Winter or her personal encounter with Labarge,  Adalene asked that Aramis and Porthos took care of her afternoon feeding chores on the farm while she took a few moments alone with her little sister. Recognising the look on her face as one that Charline herself had used on them many times, they gallantly agreed and headed outdoors, leaving the two women for some honest conversation.

“I can’t quite believe all of this, Charline,” Adalene said, shaking her head as she stood to clear the remnants from the quick meal she had put down in front of them.

“I know, it’s all a bit strange, I get that,” Charline agreed, moving quickly to help. “But it’s my life now.”

Adalene put down the dishes she was carrying and walked over to d’Artagnan, placing her hands firmly on the younger girl’s shoulders and looking her carefully in the eyes. “And are you happy with this life, little sister?”

Charline nodded eagerly. “I am, so happy Adalene.”

“Then how can I object?” she sighed with a shrug. “Although I cannot say whether Claude will be as accepting.”

“He must be, Adalene. If he gives me away then everything is lost, perhaps even my life.”

“I know that!” Adalene snapped. “Please don’t remind me of the danger you put yourself in every day with this charade.”

“I’m sorry, I know,” Charline said, pushing her sister back down into a seat at the kitchen table. “I had no wish to bring this to your door, you must believe me. I am only here because the king wished to punish me.”

“By sending you away from this Athos?”

“No,” d’Artagnan laughed. “I believe he thinks he is punishing me by sending me away from my friend, Constance. I told you about her. It suits both of us to let people at the palace think there is something between us. Athos staying behind is added punishment in that he is the leader of our little group. I also think he wasn’t quite brave enough to send all of us away for so long. He knows that Athos is the best of us, and would rather not do without his protection.”

Adalene said nothing and just stared at Charline for a few moments, clearly trying to read something in her face. D’Artagnan sat back and let her look.

Eventually she spoke, reaching out to stroke Charline’s cheek with affection. “Perhaps it is as well that Claude is away to the markets for a few days. Some time to work out what exactly to tell him could be the best thing.”

Charline grinned. “Thank you, Adalene.”

“Well...” her sister shrugged. “Now, before they come back, tell me everything about you and Athos. I want the full story this time!”

Laughing, d’Artagnan launched into the story of everything she could share, from the moment she had watched him speaking with Ninon and realised that he had become everything to her.

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Two days later, d’Artagnan rose early, taking herself out onto the farm to do what jobs she could before her sister awoke. She, Aramis and Porthos had taken on a lot of Adalene’s work, in exchange for the bed and board she had insisted they take. Once again, d’Artagnan found herself loving being in the country, and working the land around her.

This morning she was enjoying the peace, as it may or may not be the last she would enjoy, with Claude due home later that day. They were well prepared for the conversation they would have later, and Adalene was confident that he would be just as accepting as she had been, but d’Artagnan couldn’t help but worry about her previously antagonistic relationship with him, and about the consequences of the meeting going badly.

It was late morning when she returned to the farmhouse, and Adalene was busy at work in the kitchen. She turned when d’Artagnan deposited a basket of eggs next to her.

“Oh, there you are,” she reached out, gesturing to the table with the wooden spoon in her hand. “Aramis and Porthos have gone to the village for me. There’s a letter there that I assume is for you.”

D’Artagnan’s heart quickened as she stepped quickly to the table, snatching up the letter that lay there, addressed to Madame de Sauvettere in Athos’ slightly messy hand. Flashing a quick smile at her sister, she ran up the stairs to her room, throwing herself on her bed and ripping open the seal.

_D’Artagnan,_

_As promised, I have found a way to write to you. I hope your sister hasn’t read this and been confused, but hopefully I have given you enough time to explain the situation to her, and she will have realised that she wasn’t expecting any correspondence from the dressmaker Bonacieux in Paris. I didn’t think that there would be any reason for anyone to intercept and read any letters regarding clothing either.  I have arranged with Constance that you can write to her at the palace and she will pass your letters to me. It appears that your supposed relationship with her has found itself another use._

_I waited two weeks to the day from your leaving to write to you, to give you the time required, but it has been difficult. Not that I have been pining my days away, but so many times I have wanted to talk to you, to look at you, to seek your comfort and company. I believe the last two weeks have demonstrated just how difficult this time is going to be._

_Treville has been doing his bit and has kept me busy, helped by the arrival in Paris of a Moroccan, wielding some rather explosive powder. His daughter had been kidnapped by the Spanish who waited for the powder, but he sought our help for her safe return, and promised our king the powder in return. I cannot help but feel that had I had you, Porthos and Aramis by my side things would have been different, but in the end the mission was bungled, and after losing a musketeer to the Spanish for several days, we managed to get him and the daughter back, but we lost the Moroccan and the powder. To say the king was displeased would be an understatement, but he has no other method of punishing me. You are already leagues from Paris, and I am already alone._

_I do have to tell you of the latest developments at the palace, d’Artagnan, and I must ask you not to worry for now. Constance got herself into some trouble when the dauphin became ill. She took it upon herself to take him from the palace to be treated, and almost got herself executed. (Our king did not have a good week.) Thankfully, her brave yet foolish actions paid off and the baby survived, but I do not like to think of the consequence if he had not. When next at the palace I sought her out to ask her if she would receive letters from you, and I spoke to her about the incident while I was there. It appears that she does need reminding from time to time what her position is at the palace, and I fear her impetuous nature may get her into trouble. Perhaps, however, she will take heed of the young doctor Lemay who is in regular contact with the palace. He visited during our talk, and I believe I noticed something between them._

_The other development, I am afraid, is Milady. Her presence has been noted regularly at the palace, and it appears that she is, or soon will be, the king’s new mistress. I do not know what this means for us, or what it means in terms of her intentions, but I will do what I can to find out, and Constance is already keeping an eye open for her, and an ear for anything untoward. Rochefort has also been busy integrating himself further at the palace and spends a great deal of time with the queen. While I would rather avoid Milady, I am doing what I can to watch him any time I am at the palace._

_I must go, I’m afraid. We have had reports of a ‘heretic’ claiming she can speak to God, and we are beginning an investigation today, so I must get to the barracks. Spaniard are being targeted by the girl’s associates, and I fear it will become a more troublesome situation than it should. As always I do not know where this will take me, so I will post the letter on my way._

_It has occurred to me that in all the time I have known you I have never had the opportunity to write to you, so I will take this opportunity to treat letters as they should be, and tell you what I could not say so easily to your face. I miss you, more than I can possibly say, and I presume it is only going to get worse. I have comfort in knowing that the job you are doing is not a dangerous one, and that you will be returned to me safely. I thought I knew before this how much your presence in my life had become all-encompassing, and vital to my survival. It appears that I was wrong. Two weeks without you is harder than I had imagined it ever being, and the thought of this continuing for the next two months is almost impossible. I will do it though, and I will be fine. Do not worry about me, and do not worry that I am going to be at my worst when you return. I swear to you that I will do everything I can to avoid sinking into melancholy; I will be this man when you return._

_Tell Porthos and Aramis that I wish them to hurry back also, but that I will hear if they do not do everything in their power to look after you while you are not with me (please, ignore the little stab of anger that last request shot to your stubborn heart, I will not set eyes on you for at least another two months, so let me have that one, please?)._

_Above everything, remember that I love you. When you return to Paris we shall take some leave, and we will go somewhere that we can be alone for at least a week. Until then, stay safe and know that I will think of you every day, and no minute will go by that I will not wish that you were with me._

_Athos._

And there it was. The little bubble of grief that she had been avoiding since leaving Paris was finally ready to burst. Her hands lightly traced the words on the paper, enjoying the love that so clearly exuded from them. She laughed as she traced his request for her not to be angry; he knew her far too well for her to get away with her stubborn independence very often any more. She had thought this moment would bring her to a flood of sobbing, a complete indulgence in that feminine side that she fought against so much, but instead she found herself laughing through her tears, and reaching for paper and ink so that she could write back to him immediately.

“Charline?”

“What is it?” she called back down to her sister, hand poised to start writing.

“Aramis and Porthos have just arrived back. They passed a horse and cart a few miles away. Claude will be here soon.”

With a sigh d’Artagnan dropped the pen in her hand, putting the lid back on the ink. She dashed away the tears on her face and quickly folded up Athos’ letter, placing it snugly within her shirt.

“I’ll be right there.”

Taking a quick glance in the looking glass that stood on the dressing table in her room, she decided that the dried tears could stay. Anything that could garner sympathy from her brother-in-law could be an asset in this upcoming conversation. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and left the room. Reaching the top of the stairs, she heard Claude’s booming voice as he arrive in the kitchen, and the quiet reply of his wife. Seconds later, he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes bulging as he took in the sight of ‘Charles’ in front of him.

“Hello, brother,” d’Artagnan said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded incredulously.

D’Artagnan’s heart sank at the anger in his voice. Somehow, she didn’t think this was going to be as easy as Adalene has been hoping.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! :(

_Athos,_

_Life is not much better here than it was two weeks ago, when I last wrote. At that time, as I said, I couldn't tell you what was going to happen with Claude as, if you remember, after he shouted at me for 'bringing danger and dishonour to his doorstep' he barely spoke to me for three days._

_Since then, we have begun our task in earnest. The truce, if you can call it that, between Porthos and Claude is an uneasy one. It is making life a little more difficult I suppose, but I cannot regret it as I found myself so unable to defend myself to him during his rant, and I was truly grateful when Porthos burst in the room to do it for me. Perhaps holding him against the wall by the throat was taking things a little too far, but it did make him listen, and neither Porthos or Aramis seem to think so. To be fair to Claude, he has kept my secret well, and has introduced me as his wife's brother. I believe he thought that presenting the King's representation as a relative would do his cause some good, but I am sorry to say it may be having the opposite effect. I may have to speak to him about it, as I couldn't bear it if his postulating on this made our whole mission take longer. I will be in Paris with you as soon as I can, with not a single day wasted._

_The Comte causing all of the problems is Armand Patenaude. Have you heard of him? I thought that Bonacieux was a blustering fool, but even he would be stumped by this man's obstinate arrogance. The whole dispute seems to centre around a pasture that belonged to Claude's friend, Daniau, and it's spiralled into something much larger, with various land disputes from all of the farmers round about, and Patenaude digging his heels in and making life more difficult for everyone. He has no argument for maintaining any of the land he is trying to claim back, as he put it, but the arguments are getting nasty, and we cannot find a magistrate who is willing to come here and legalise our findings as Patenaude insists that our say so is not enough. If we don't manage this soon, then I'm afraid this will definitely erupt into some violence._

_Do not worry though! I am hopeful that the magistrate Aramis and Claude have just left us to go and drag back here will start the process, and we may be on time to avoid it._

_I cannot believe it is now five weeks since I left Paris, and you. Your letters have kept me going, and reminded me that although I have no wish to be here, and it is torturous to be away from you for so long, there is an end in sight, and I do have you to come back to. I miss you, and more so with every day that passes._

_How are things in Paris, truly? Your last letter was a bit shorter, and if I am honest I sensed from it that you are not as content, or as settled, as you were previously. I have a feeling it has to do with more than our prolonged exile down here. Is it Anne? Have you seen her? You didn't mention her in your last letter, but I assume that she is still very much at the palace. Although perhaps you have not been._

_You said things had been quiet, but with Treville avoiding giving you palace duty I am concerned that there is not enough happening to keep you occupied. Porthos said that I have to tell you to spend some time thinking of ways to annoy the apprentices, but I feel that may be more his type of activity than yours. It could be worth a try though. Aramis has said very little. About anything._

_I cannot help but think that his quietness has something to do with what we discussed, with very little detail, before. I think Porthos is starting to worry about him, although he doesn't say so. Perhaps he is hoping I won't notice and worry about our brother as well._

_I must go. Porthos and I are leaving for Patenaude's shortly. I shall have this letter sent before I go, and hope that it reaches you soon. Write back quickly, my love. I wait for your letters when I cannot bear the wait for you._

_Sending my love, always._

 

 

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_D'Artagnan,_

_I am fine, please do not worry, and you don’t have to keep asking. Concentrate instead on getting your job finished so that the three of you can get back to Paris. It is still, unfortunately, fairly dull here. Ten weeks is long enough._

_I am still having no problems from Anne, and she is still very much at the palace. Neither of them are trying particularly hard to hide what is happening, but so far it has not caused me any problems, other than having to ignore her when I inevitably come across her. The captain is being true to his word and is keeping me away as much as possible, but I believe the King wishes to see me there regularly; he did keep me in Paris for a reason after all._

_I am sorry that my letters are worrying you, but they remain short because I have little to tell you. While you are in the middle of business down in Valence, I have had very little to deal with. There were some uprisings against the Spanish, but we have discovered the source and a musketeer has been sent in to infiltrate a camp, who are protecting a ‘seer’. I will hear no more of it until that business is finished. There has been nothing beyond normal duties and training the new recruits._

_I promise you that all is well. Just continue to push things with Patenaude (whom I don’t believe I have ever met) and get yourselves back here, before I resort to taking Porthos’ advice that you passed on to me a few letters ago, and terrorising the youngsters._

_Yours, as ever, Athos._

 

D’Artagnan dropped the letter to the bed with a frown. Something was definitely wrong. Athos’ letters had become as taciturn as he could be in person, and that was very much different from how his first letters had been. Over the weeks they had begun to wane, and since she had first mentioned it he had been attempting to remain cheerful, but he seemed to have less and less to say her to her, Perhaps he was just missing her, or was feeling lonely. That could easily explain it, of course. But something told her that the tone she was reading between his words was more unsettling than that; that something was disturbing him beyond his current exile in his home city.

“Charline?” Adalene’s voice drifted up the stairs to her.

“Coming,” she called back. A sudden growling in her belly called her out of her thoughts and reminded her that it was supper time. Porthos and Aramis must have arrived back from their latest meeting with the Comte and their present but vaguely reluctant magistrate. Maybe they had even returned with the news that everything was finally signed and settled, and they could go home. With a quick, hopeful smile to herself she picked up the discarded letter and folded into her shirt before bounding down the stairs to where the aromas of Adalene’s delicious cooking were beginning to permeate through the house.

Porthos and Aramis were already seated at the table, while Adalene served up the food and Claude took his seat sullenly at the head of the table. Charline felt her hope sink a little.

“Still no agreement?” she asked, taking her seat and smiling her thanks at her sister.

“Almost,” said Aramis, digging in.

“Almost?”

“We nearly had an agreement, till bloody Daniau decided he wanted a little something extra at the last minute,” Porthos said, angrily.

“It was not Daniau’s fault,” Claude interjected.

“It bloody well was!”

“What happened?” Charline asked.

“The Comte took exception to Daniau’s attempt to extend the agreement into another field of his land,” Aramis explained.

“And the tone he used to say he wanted it!”

“So the meeting ended in a lot of shouting, and us having to remove Daniau and his men from the room before we got another bout of violence.”

D’Artagnan winced. Two weeks earlier the lack of progress had, as predicted, led to a violent outburst from one of the farmers, which had led to a full on flight that had taken a lot of work to calm down. In the end, thankfully, the only injuries had been some bruises and a broken shoulder. Aramis had been less than pleased with the impressive black eye he had obtained when he stepped between two men who seemed on the verge of drawing their weapons. Next time they might not be so lucky.

“He’s a pig-headed idiot,” Porthos muttered.

“Daniau is an honest man fighting for what is his, just like the rest of us,” Claude shouted, slamming his hand on the table.

“Daniau was getting what was his, then decided to get greedy!” Porthos growled back.

“We will have to speak to him tomorrow, and remind him of what is important here,” Aramis said quietly, stopping the argument before it get started. “We will not be stuck here any longer than necessary, and Daniau does not want to be the one stopping us from getting back to Paris.”

Charline watched Aramis carefully as she ate. Daniau’s behaviour at the meeting did not surprise her: the man had been getting more and more confident and greedy as things began to go his way. Aramis’ behaviour was what surprised her. It must have something to do with this secret he had shared with Athos. He had been getting more and more withdrawn, losing more of his warm humour, the longer they were away. There was an edge to his voice now as he spoke of Daniau that told her he was a lot closer to the edge than she had supposed.

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Two days later, d’Artagnan was trying her hardest not to scream and bash some heads together. As it was, Aramis had definitely lost his cool.

“That is enough! This is the last day of negotiations, so make up your minds. Your King did not give us leave to stay here indefinitely while you bicker like children over land, when you all know fine well who owns what,” he yelled, slamming a hand on the table they were gathered around for good measure.

“So start agreeing, before we walk out of here and let you fight it out, without us to stop anyone getting killed,” Porthos growled from behind him, using his stature to add even more threat to his words. D’Artagnan took a step closer to the table and put a very deliberate hand to the hilt of her sword.

They had all definitely had enough.

Patenaude was the idiot who tried to argue with them first. “The King has sent you here to...”

“The King has sent us here out of a duty of care to his subjects,” Charline cut in icily, tongue stuck firmly in cheek as she tried not to think about the real reason they had been sent there. “What you are doing is showing a lack of care to your King, and I believe that is closing in on treason, gentlemen.” She tried to look as fierce as possible, as they all turned to look at her, desperate to feign some confidence in her words. Nonsense, of course.

“What do you mean, Musketeer? You dare to suggest that we do not care for our King?” Daniau practically spat.

“I dare to suggest, Monsieur, that anyone who keeps three of the King’s most loyal guards from his side to watch over petty struggles long after they could have been settled shows very little concern for the safety of the monarch who did not need to offer such direct assistance in the first place.”

One by one the men’s heads turned back to look at the plans that were spread out on the table, until the only eyes resting on her were those of Porthos and Aramis, who sent her a quick wink and a grin between them. She flashed them back a quick smile of relief, before she took a cue from Porthos and began to prowl round the group at the table. This was a tactic they had used before, but not here. It needed a sense of authority over everyone involved, and without Athos here to command it instantly the Comte had resisted them at every turn.

Apparently a spectacular display of anger from three musketeers, following two days of loud arguments and threats of violence, and a suggestion of treason was what it took. Charline almost snorted with laughter as she walked round them, unable to believe it had taken them this long.

Porthos and d’Artagnan stalked the room for over an hour, making sure everyone stayed put, while Aramis got involved with the discussions, backed up by the frustrated magistrate who was also beyond the end of the tether. D’Artagnan let her mind wander, drifting as always back to Athos.

In the two days since she had read his letter her worry had grown significantly. She knew there was something he wasn’t saying, and she couldn’t stand to stay here another minute. No matter when they left it would take them at least a week and a half to get back, if they pushed the horses, and the longer they stayed the bigger the chance that they would be too late to stop whatever crisis she was sure was heading their way.

She had sent a reply, of course, asking again for him to be honest, to tell her if something was going on. She knew that he wouldn’t. This sense of necessary independence he had, this insistence that no-one should have to worry for him, was going to be a trial in their lives together. The fact that they shared this trait, in slightly varying versions, did not make things easier. She continued to cling to the hope that it was just loneliness, or boredom, but the change in his letters hinted at something more.

“So, gentlemen,” Aramis’ voice snapped her out of her musings, suddenly. “We have an agreement?”

All the heads around the table nodded, making various noises of reluctant agreement and eyeing each other warily. Porthos quickly spun on his heel and retrieved the parchment and ink that had been sitting patiently waiting use for some time. He marched back over to the table and thrust it into the middle of the group.

“Then sign,” he growled. “Now.”

Tears welled quickly in Charline’s eyes as she realised that they were finally going home. She turned her back and took some deep calming breaths. Tonight, she decided. She would make Aramis and Porthos agree, and they would leave tonight.

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“Oh thank goodness!”

The expression on Adalene’s face as she ran down the steps from the house, brandishing a letter, made d’Artagnan’s heart sink deeply. Something was clearly wrong.

“What is it?” she yelled, leaping from her horse and running to take her sister by the shoulders.

“It’s from Athos,” Adalene said, thrusting the letter at her. “I recognised the writing. Something must be wrong for him to write again so soon, surely?”

D’Artagnan looked at her sister in panic as everything inside her screamed in agreement with Adalene’s assessment. Grabbing the letter, she ripped open the seal and scanned the document, dimly aware of Porthos and Aramis arriving at each shoulder.

_The business with the ‘seer’ is over. Treville has lost his commission because of it. A swallow situation. You must come home, as quickly as you can._

She heard a gasp and a curse behind her, but for the moment she couldn’t think about the circumstances with Treville. At the moment her mind was only concerned at the note, for it was indeed just a note, that Athos had sent. He was clearly in haste, but that did not explain what she had only noticed as she had reached the end. The note had been addressed to Aramis and Porthos; her name was nowhere to be seen.

“We must leave,” Aramis said, pushing her gently into the house. Everyone followed them. “I apologise Madame, Monsieur, for out hasty retreat, but we must begin our journey back to Paris. Porthos, D’Artagnan, gather your belongings. We leave presently.”

Shaking herself from her thoughts, which she was sure she could convince herself were unnecessary, she ran quickly up the stairs and flitted around the room, throwing her belongings into her bag, only remembering at the last minute to gather Athos’ letters from under her pillow, and ran back down the stairs to sweep her sister into a warm hug.

“Thank you so much, Adalene. It’s been so nice to see you, although perhaps less stressful circumstances would have made for a better visit.”

Adalene squeezed d’Artagnan back, hard. “Well, when Charles has died his hero’s death, and Charline and Athos are at last together, you must come and stay for a while.”

“We will,” Charline whispered. “I promise.”

Porthos and Aramis were suddenly beside them, saying their goodbyes and expressing their thanks. Claude joined them, and was able to return some thanks to them, clearly relaxed now that trouble was being taken from his door once more.

Within minutes they were gone, the farm fading behind them as they made their way north, at the briskest pace the horses could manage long-term.

“How do you think Treville will be?” d’Artagnan asked quietly, after two hours of them all riding in silent worry. She glanced at Porthos, and saw him sharing a quick look with Aramis. “What is it?”

“I think he will be exactly as you imagine he will, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said.

She frowned. Clearly they weren’t going to explain the look between them. She continued to ride in silence, until something hit her and she pulled up short.

“Wait,” she said. “What did the note mean?”

“What do you mean?” Porthos asked, not stopping beside her but riding on ahead with Aramis. She saw them share a look again.

She kicked her horse to catch up. “What is a swallow situation?”

“A what?” Aramis asked. He wasn’t looking at her.

“Don’t treat me like an idiot, Aramis. What did Athos mean, ‘a swallow situation’?”

“It’s nothing-”

“Don’t lie to me, Porthos,” she snapped. “Tell me, right now. What did he mean?”

This time it was Porthos and Aramis who stopped. When she followed suit and turned back to face them, they were giving each other that same look.

“I...I don’t think it will help you to know,” Porthos started.

“I don’t care if you think it will help,” she growled, her temper creeping up her neck in a blaze of red. “Just tell me what is going on.”

Aramis sighed and looked at Porthos. “We have to tell her.”

Porthos just looked her in the eyes for a few moments, then nodded his assent.

“It’s an old code word,” Aramis explained. “From the first battle we faced together.”

“But what does it mean?” d’Artagnan asked, confused.

“The fact that he used it was enough, without the meaning behind it. There’s only one reason he would have needed to.”

She just looked at them blankly, not taking this in at all.

“It means ‘swoop in and save me’, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said quietly, nudging his horse a few steps closer. “It’s a distress call.”

“What? No, it-”

“It means he thinks he is in danger,” Porthos cut in, speaking firmly.

“And it means we are far too far from Paris for anyone’s comfort.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge apologies! A horrendous catalogue of disasters over the last few months, so my humblest apologies. Hopefully some of you will want to keep reading... 
> 
> B x

“I said I’m fine!”

Porthos frowned at her as he removed the hand that had reached out to take hold of her elbow. “You’re not fine, you’re exhausted. That’s why you stumbled. But I can let you fall next time, if you like.”

“I’m no more tired than you are,” she snapped again, wrenching her bedroll from the back of her horse, startling a quiet whinny from the animal. She managed to soften her movements as she began to unbuckle the saddle, but not enough to avoid a look of annoyance from her horse.

Aramis chuckled quietly behind her, but she ignored him.

“Leave it, Porthos. At least she’s finally off the damn horse so we can stop to rest for a couple of hours. If she falls, she falls.”

The big musketeer grunted in agreement from somewhere nearby but said nothing. A hand appeared beside d’Artagnan as she pulled the saddle from her horse’s back and let him rest with a just a long rope tying him to a tree, alongside her companions’ beasts. “Do we have force you to eat too?” Aramis asked quietly.

Glancing down at the hand, she saw that Aramis was holding out a bowl of cold leftovers from the last time they had stopped, several hours before. Quietly, she reached out and took the bowl from him and moved to rest against a tree, stooping to pick up the bedroll she had dropped on the way. Aramis watched her go until she was sitting and eating.

“Good. Now finish that, and get some sleep.”

“And don’t argue,” Porthos chimed in, suddenly appearing beside her to rest against the same tree.

She finished her food quietly. She knew, of course, that they were right and they needed to stop. But they were _so close_ to Paris, just a few more hours ride. She needed to be there, and the thought of stopping and leaving Athos to whatever trouble he was in for any longer than necessary was not pleasing her. Much as it had not pleased her any time her musketeers insisted they stop throughout the whole journey back.

Deciding that she might as well get what sleep she could, she dispensed with unfurling her bedroll and just stuffed it behind her head as she shuffled down to stretch out on the ground. She was angry at Aramis and Porthos, who were both treating her like a child (or worse, a girl), but she hoped that an apology for snapping might help her persuade Aramis to cut short their break by an hour or so from what he’d planned.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

Porthos laughed beside her. “We’re used to it.”

“And not just from you,” Aramis added. “What do you think Athos was like when those slave traders got hold of you?”

Porthos was still grumbling under his breath about them “never going through that again” when d’Artagnan finally succumbed to the exhaustion that she had been fighting for several hours.

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The last hour of their hurried journey were spent arguing over where to go first to ensure their friend’s safety. Something in d’Artagnan was screaming at her to go to Athos’ lodgings, but eventually she had to concede to Aramis and Porthos’ view that they needed answers at the barracks first. No one even suggested splitting up; each of them understood without saying it aloud that they danger Athos had clearly felt he was in could easily be a danger they all faced.

Aramis was leading their small pack as they rode into the barracks, quickly dismounting and heading over to the only group of musketeers they could see. D’Artagnan and Porthos quickly followed suit, instructing the emerging stable boy to hold the animals, but not put them away. They were only a few seconds behind Aramis, but he was already getting answers from the gathered men by the time they reached his side.

“It’s Rochefort, it has to be,” the first said.

The next was nodding seriously at his side. “He’s has it in for the captain since he got here. There’s no way Treville would’ve been thrown out if it wasn’t for him.”

“The King has always been fond of Treville, though,” Porthos pointed out.

“Yes, well the King also listened too much to the last man who whispered in his ear a lot, didn’t he?” the last musketeer snorted derisively.

No one spoke for a moment. Every musketeer loved their king, and would gladly give their life in his service, but none of them were unaware of the man’s weaknesses, and had spent too long watching him be manipulated by powerful men around him.

“Where is he?”

“At home.”

“And Athos?”

The three men exchanged a quick glance that threw d’Artagnan’s heart down into her boots.

“What?” she snapped at them.

“He was put in charge.”

This wasn’t a surprise to any of them. Everyone knew that Athos would be the next captain, and none of them wanted anyone else for the job.

“Where is he?” Porthos asked.

“No idea,” one of them said, quietly. The others shook their heads.

“He’s missing?” Aramis almost barked at them.

The men looked shocked. “No, no! Not that I know of. He just...hasn’t always been here, when he’s meant to, you know?”

“And now?”

“Well, he hasn’t appeared yet today, but we have general orders, and he’s been keeping in contact with the captain, so nobody is really questioning it.”

“How long has this been going on?” Porthos asked, his voice quiet and showing no emotion.

“A week? Two?”

“Wait,” one of the other men spoke up. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember anyone mentioning seeing him yesterday either.”

D’Artagnan had heard enough. “Let’s go,” she said, crossing the yard quickly and heading for the gate. Porthos and Aramis were at her side, with Aramis shouting quick instructions back to the men that one of them should get word to Treville’s home, immediately, for him to meet them at Athos’ home. They were going to need someone with more information than these three musketeers had to offer. The stable boy was told to water the horses and have them ready to go out by the time they got back.

As she ran through the streets Charline felt like her heart was pounding twice as fast as her footsteps, and they were trying frantically to catch up to the same speed as she made her way as quickly as she could towards her mounting fear that they wouldn’t like what they found in Athos’ apartments. Porthos overtook her, shouting ahead and clearing space in the busy streets.

It was only a matter of minutes before they reached the building, but as Porthos, then Aramis, ran straight into the building and up the stairs, d’Artagnan had to fight a large part of her that wanted to wait outside. The same part of her that was screaming that Athos would be in his apartment, but that they would be far too late.

Shaking of her fears with an irritated growl, she hesitated only for a split second before she sprinted up the stairs after her brothers, and burst into the room behind them. A quick glance calmed her heart as she saw that Athos wasn’t lying in a bloodied heap somewhere.

“He’s not here,” she breathed, relieved.

“No,” Porthos sighed.

“What is it?” Charline looked at him, hearing the despair in his tone.

“Look around you, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said, quietly, arms outstretched to indicate the contents of the room. Looking more clearly, Charline soon saw what they had already seen; almost everything in the room was out of place. Not so much that the room looked like the scene of a struggle, but enough to tell them that something had happened here, and someone had tried to cover it up.

“He’s not here,” Aramis continued. “But not through his own choice.”

“Someone’s taken him,” Porthos said, slumping down onto Athos’ bed. “We’re too late.”

Charline wasn’t entirely aware of what she was doing as she darted for the door, but before she could get through it two strong arms grabbed around her waist and hauled her back inside.

“Let me go!” she yelled, kicking out against her captor.

“No, d’Artagnan,” Aramis spoke firmly in her ear, her attempts to escape making no difference to the hold he had on her. “You need to calm down; you can’t help him like this.”

The fight left her at his words and she slumped in his arms. He turned her around gently, and enveloped her into a quick embrace.

“We can find him, d’Artagnan. We just need to work out where he is, work out who has him. If they wanted to kill him we would have found him here,” he said quietly.

“But what if it’s _her_?” she whispered. “What if she’s taken him?”

“Then we take him back.”

The wait for Treville was interminable. D’Artagnan sat, trembling slightly on Athos’ bed, trying not to think about what Athos was currently going through, and watching Porthos and Aramis as they methodically went through Athos’ rooms. At first she had tried to join in, but soon she had realised that she had no idea what she was doing, as she couldn’t concentrate at all on the task.

Quietly, Porthos pushed a bundle of letters into her hands, and as she looked idly through them she was startled to see that they were all addressed to her. Confused, she ripped one open. It was dated half way through her time away from Paris; about the time that Athos’ letters had become more taciturn, and less frequent.

_My darling girl,_

_I cannot believe how long you have been gone from Paris, and I hate to think of how long it may still be before you return. For all I have known for some time exactly how I feel about you, I had not quite realised until now just what a necessary part of my existence you have become._

_I wake thinking of you, often reaching for you and finding myself desolate when you are not beside me, within easy reach._

The letter ended abruptly here, as if he had had second thoughts about the content of his letter. Charline was slightly shocked by how open he was with his emotions – perhaps this was the reason for its abandonment. Quickly, she flicked through the pile for the next dated note.

_I am ashamed of myself. The letter I wrote to you was so abrupt, so lacking in information. No doubt you have received it and are worrying about me even more. In truth, I find myself more and more frustrated at the absence of all three of you, and spending my time at the palace, where I always seem to bump into Anne, is not helping. Rochefort is yet another thorn in my side. So far I have managed to keep myself sober, and have not lashed out at any of our fellow musketeers, but I think the time is getting closer where I will not be able to hold onto my emotions._

This letter also ended abruptly, and flicking through the others quickly told Charline that all of them were the same. She worried what that might suggest about his state of mind in recent weeks, but realised quickly that she didn’t have time to think about that, not until they found him and brought him home safely.

Porthos and Aramis paused in their searchings and d’Artagnan looked up when the sound of feet pounding up the stairs echoed into the room. For a quick second the thought flashed through her mind that this could be Athos coming up the stairs, that they had made a mistake in their reasoning for the oddness of the room. The thought disappeared as Treville’s concerned face came into view, his cheeks flushed with the haste of his journey.

“Captain, we need to work out…”

“No,” Treville interrupted Porthos, holding up a hand. “Not captain, and no we don’t need to work anything out.”

Coming fully into the room and closing the door behind him, he handed a small pile of letters to Aramis and turned to look at d’Artagnan.

“I know who took him, and I know exactly where he is.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, huge apologies are owed to you all! My initial exile from this story was forced on me, but then I found it very difficult to get back to it. I will finish this, I promise. Please keep the encouragement coming – it’s the recent comments and requests for more that have given me the kick up the backside to get on with this! I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> Sorry, again. B xx

_“We are in desperate need of your protection. We entreat you to return to us and honour the name of your family.”_

The words kept repeating over and over in d’Artagnan’s mind as they made their way to Pinon. The sentiment behind them was what she kept clinging too; the suggestion that Athos had been taken purely through the desperation of these people, and not to do him harm. Athos, evidently, had believed that he was being watched or followed by someone else, and had dismissed these letters as requests from a people that he did not believe he could help any more.

Aramis had briefly tried to argue with Treville that Athos may have been correct, but Treville, apparently, had been taking his duties as Athos’ carer seriously in their absence from Paris, and had been sending people to check on him regularly. One of his ‘spies’ had seen the musketeer being taken out of the city.

Of course, like everywhere else they needed to get to in a hurry, the journey to Pinon had taken them almost a day, and Charline was completely tense with fear as they covered the last couple of miles.

None of them had spoken much since they had left Paris.

“Move!” Porthos suddenly shouted from the head of the group, kicking his horse into a gallop. The others quickly followed suit, and d’Artagnan quickly garnered the reason for the change of pace. She could hear shouting through the trees on their right, telling her that they’d finally reached Pinon, but sending a bolt of horror through her that they may have been too late.

Rounding the corner into the village, the first thing d’Artagnan saw was several horses in retreat, hurrying out the other end of the small cluster of buildings, then a man lying on the floor. Several people stood around, looking scared or horrified, and many of them were gaping either at the four musketeers who had just stormed into their village, or at the thing that was hanging from a wooden frame in front of the sun, making it difficult for d’Artagnan to see what exactly it was.

She squinted at it, barely noticing when Aramis and Porthos threw themselves from the saddle, a loud curse from Porthos as they did, and ran towards the swinging effigy.

“Captain, you and d’Artagnan take that man inside and clean up his wounds,” Aramis shouted as they ran.

Charline barely heard. Her brain was suddenly stupid, and she was staring uncomprehendingly as her two brothers reached their target and started working to pull it down. She couldn’t seem to think clearly, although something in her brain was screaming to get through to awareness.

“D’Artagnan, let’s go,” Treville said from the ground next to her. She nodded vaguely at him, and swung herself from the saddle, moving to help him. A few villagers had brought themselves over to help the man up, and the group started making its way towards a tavern on the far side from the open space from where Aramis and Porthos had gone. D’Artagnan moved slowly behind them.

As they entered the gloom of the tavern, Charline threw a glance over her shoulder to see if Porthos and Aramis were following them yet, and for the first time she could see clearly what was going on.

She swallowed the scream that made its way out of the throat, but could not stop herself from running back across the open space, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. The sight of Aramis and Porthos lifting down Athos’ body from where he had clearly been hanging was one that she knew instantly would stay with her.

“Athos,” she gasped as she reached them, throwing herself to her knees beside where he now lay on the ground. “Athos!”

Her voice betrayed her panic, and Porthos quickly grabbed her shoulders. “He’s ok, d’Artagnan. He’ll be fine!”

“But he was hanging…”

Porthos looked at her in horror as he realised what he had thought. “By his wrists, d’Artagnan. His wrists. They were going to whip him, I think. He’s fine.”

Her hand was shaking as it flew to her mouth, the sob only just covered. Her eyes flew over Athos in a frantic attempt to see for herself that Porthos was speaking the truth. Aramis stood from the other side and called out to the remaining villagers who had hung around to head into the tavern, and that the Comte was fine and would join them shortly. While he spoke, d’Artagnan’s hands began to follow her eyes over Athos’ form, fluttering over him, afraid to touch but desperately needing to feel his warmth. The moment she had realised that the thing hanging from the wooden structure had been Athos, she had assumed in devastation that he had been hanged, that they had been too late, and that she had lost him.

After a few desperate moments, Athos groaned and his eyes began to flutter open.

“Athos? You with us?” Porthos asked. D’Artagnan couldn’t speak.

“P’thos,” Athos groaned, squinting to look at his friend. “Head hurts.”

“Stop complaining, old man,” Aramis shoved an arm under Athos and made him sit up. “You’re absolutely fine. We came to your rescue, as normal.”

“Athos?” d’Artagnan’s voice was small when it finally came out, and Athos turned his head to look at her, clearly still a little fuzzy.

“d’Artagnan,” he breathed, reaching out to grasp her hand.

“Here,” Porthos was suddenly holding a cup of water under Athos’ nose. Charline hadn’t even noticed him moving away. “Clear your head.”

Athos drank the water greedily, then guzzled another cup before refusing a third. He pulled himself to his feet, and his three companions followed suit.

“Aramis, Porthos,” Athos voice was gruff, and his eyes were boring into d’Artagnan’s. “Please go ahead and head into the tavern with everyone else. D’Artagnan and I will join you in a few moments.”

With a snort and a pat on the back for Athos between them, the two musketeers left them standing in the sun, staring at each other. Abruptly, Athos turned away and started walking towards a building that stood behind them, and was clearly empty. Heart pounding, Charline quickly followed him.

She watched as he disappeared behind the structure, and she quickened her pace to catch up with him. As she stepped into the shadows afforded by the building’s height, Athos’ hand reached out and latched onto her wrist, pulling her into his arms.

Her hands immediately tangled themselves in his hair as their mouths found each other desperately. Athos’s arms slid around her waist and puller her impossibly tighter against him. They kissed like this for several moments, both of them wrecked by the emotions of seeing each other for the first time in so long, and in such circumstances.

“I missed you, Charline,” Athos was whispering against her skin as his mouth tracked across her cheek and down to her jaw.  This time she couldn’t stop the sobs when they hit. Athos pulled his head back and looked at her in concern. “What is it?”

“I thought…”she shook her head, not wanting to say it. Athos was looking at her in confusion, though, so she stroked her hands down his cheeks and leaned forward to rest her forehead on his chin while she pulled herself together. Athos hands were trailing gently down her sides, offering comfort. Eventually she pulled back up and looked at him, cupping his face in her hands and pressing a kiss gently to his sad mouth. “I couldn’t see properly,” she whispered. “I didn’t see that it was you, and when I saw you being brought down, I thought, I thought…”

“Oh, d’Artagnan,” Athos looked devastated as he pulled her into a tight embrace. She tucked her face into his neck as he leaned back against the building, resting the two of them for several moments. “I’m fine, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I love you,” d’Artagnan said, still squashed against him. She was basking in his warmth, in the smell of him after being away for so long. The arms that held her so securely felt like home, and she didn’t want to leave again.

“I love you too. More than anything.”

Their moment of sad reflection was quickly overtaken by passion once again, as Athos took Charline’s face in his hands, pulling her out from her hiding spot, pressing their lips together once again. As the kiss deepened, d’Artagnan pressed her body against him, forcing him tightly against the wall as his hands began to roam her back.

“I can’t even tell you how badly I want you right now,” Athos practically growled against her.

“Then have me,” she said lightly. She laughed lightly at the look on his face when he pulled away for a moment.

“Don’t tempt me,” he mumbled, before pressing their lips back together and very deliberately running his hands over her backside, squeezing gently when she gasped into his mouth.

“Athos,” she whispered. “Please.”

“We have to stop, d’Artagnan,” Athos moaned back, making no effort to move away.

“I know,” she whimpered. While neither of them ended it, the kiss did eventually simmer down to light pressed of lips against each other, then lips against cheeks, eyelids, foreheads.

“We have to go and join the others,” Charline said quietly, as Athos’ lips pressed against her jaw.

Athos sighed loudly, then tipped his head back to lean on the wall. Charline stroked her hands up and down his arms, sharing his frustration.

“If you don’t stop that I’m never going to be able to move away from here,” Athos said dryly.

“Oh, sorry,” d’Artagnan giggled, stepping out of his embrace. “Better?”

“No,” he scowled.

She laughed aloud. “Come on. The sooner we deal with this mess, the sooner we can continue our reunion, in a more private setting.”

Athos’s head fell forward and he looked at her. She smiled at him, but he didn’t return it. Instead he looked intently at her, his expression giving away nothing.

“What?” d’Artagnan asked eventually, squirming a little under the intensity of the gaze.

“Marry me.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Sorry?”

“Marry me.”

“But, I, we…” Charline didn’t know what to say. She knew what she wanted, but she also knew what it would mean. Evidently, Athos did too.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Charline. I don’t want to have to hide around corners to touch you, or check nobody is watching before I kiss you, or even make sure we’re alone before I say what I want to. I love you. You are my entire life, and I would happily give all of this up to live in the country with you, be your husband and raise our children.”

“Athos,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

“I don’t want to go through this again; to be separated at the whim of the King and have to sit and wait for us to be reunited. I don’t want us both to get sent off to war, and spend years hoping that we both survive. I don’t want you to have to hide who you are anymore, and I don’t want nobody else to be able to see the beauty of the woman I love. So please, d’Artagnan, when this is over, and when we’ve dealt with Milady de Winter, will you please kill Charles and become Charline, and be mine?”

She laughed through the tears that were streaming down her face, and was shocked to notice that Athos’ eyes were not dry either. She had thought that the decision to give all of this up would have been a difficult one, but everything that Athos had just said to her was what she wanted too. She didn’t doubt it for one second.

“I’m already yours, Athos,” she said. “And I can’t wait to marry you.”

She squealed as he suddenly reached forward and lifted her off her feet and into his arms. “You won’t regret this, d’Artagnan, I promise,” he said as he put her back on her feet.

“I know,” she grinned at him.

“Come on,” he said, moving back around the building. “We better wash our faces in that water trough and head inside.”

Charline followed him, looking over this man who would be her husband. Who would be the father of the children that she suddenly realised she craved. Soon, they would live together honestly, with no more need to decide who she was, and no more need to hide who they were.

A sudden shiver shook her out of her happy thoughts and put a frown on her face. She tried to shake the ominous feeling off. She would marry him, and she would do it soon. Finally, they would be free to be happy.

They just had to survive until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if it would be that simple! More to come... B xx


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your enthusiasm that I finally found time to continue this! A slightly different feel with this chapter, and we’ve not moved much further, but there’s a few important things in here, and I felt I needed to address the rest of the episode.  
> Let me know what you thought! Comments will get me writing their week together faster – I promise!   
> B xx

It took two days to clear up the mess that had been left by Athos' apathy towards the village over the years since his disastrous marriage to the malevolent Anne. Charline spent the whole time watching his despair and guilt as he realised what his abandonment of his people had left them open to, heightened by the discovery that the inn keeper's daughter had been kidnapped.

 

He was no longer apathetic. D'Artagnan was proud of him as she watched him take charge, watched him train the villagers to fight back against their would-be oppressor, watched him organise a rescue mission, and helped him raid his Château for weapons.

 

She had worried that going back there would trigger a darker episode in Athos' melancholic disposition, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that her presence there seemed to make him see the house as what it was; a beautiful building that had once been his home, and that was his property and responsibility. He showed her around the parts that were safe to walk in, both of them ignoring the bile they felt at looking upon the singed and burned parts of the building and the memory of Milady's reappearance in his life. 

 

By the time they had finished there and were heading back to the village with their supplies, d'Artagnan had a slight suspicion that he was looking at the possibilities the building held, rather than the hideous memories that he had allowed to take over.

 

Their battle with the villagers against Baron Renard's men was long, and difficult. The villagers fought bravely, desperate to keep their homes, and somewhat inspired by Athos' newfound sense of responsibility for his people.

 

D'Artagnan wasn't the only person to freeze when Athos hit the ground, but her gasp was definitely the loudest.

 

Everything had been going to plan. The explosions they had set into the ground of their makeshift battlefield held off some of Renard's men, and the villagers who had been under the tutelage of Aramis had learned to shoot well enough that the shots from behind the barricade of furniture had been effective. Then it had been time for d'Artagnan to step into her element.

 

She, along with Athos, Aramis, Porthos and Treville, had stepped over the barricade and taken on Renard's thugs face to face, swords and daggers drawn and grins on the faces of the musketeers. Shots from behind the barricade rang out sporadically to support them, but they were holding their own against anyone who came their way, as usual.

 

Renard had not shown enough integrity to step into his own battle, but suddenly his putrid son was on the scene, and d'Artagnan noticed that he was walking firmly towards Athos, the sun glinting off his metal armour as he faced the tired musketeer. Charline noticed that Treville paused as he noticed the two men square off, and she quickly dispatched her two opponents and paused to watch as well.

 

Athos, as always, was mesmerising to watch as he took on the Baron's heir, and d'Artagnan felt a strong pride, and an equally strong stab of want, rush through her as she watched him. The boy was no match for Athos' experience and skill, and it took him only a couple of minutes to have his opponent stretched out on the ground, his sword pointing at his throat and he warned him to stay away.

 

"You tell your father that this land is mine," Athos growled, "and that the people who live on it are under my protection. The Comte is still in charge."

 

D'Artagnan's grin was spreading slowly over her face as the shot rang out from the trees. Everything that happened afterwards took only a matter of seconds. Everyone flinched, ducking slightly from the unseen gunman, and in the split second Athos had moved, Renard's boy was on his feet, dagger in hand and throwing himself towards Athos' back. D'Artagnan tried to yell, but it was Treville's voice that rang out and Charline could only watch in horror as Athos twisted and caught the boy as he advanced, at the same time as another shot was fired onto the field and then Athos and the boy were on the ground together.

 

Neither of them moved for several seconds, and there was absolute silence everywhere for a long moment, until someone screamed. D'Artagnan thought for a moment that it was her, but it wasn't. A woman from the village, apparently. Porthos went crashing into the trees to their right, apparently having sussed out where the shot had been fired, and d'Artagnan found herself beside Treville and Aramis as the three of them threw themselves to where Athos still lay.

 

"Athos?" Treville grunted as he reached for the man, pulling him from his position lying on top of his young attacker. Moments later, Athos was on his back next to the boy, and d'Artagnan's eyes were flitting over both of them anxiously, checking for signs of blood, and praying that when she found it, it would not be coming from Athos.

 

She hadn't particularly noticed that everything else had been blocked out of her senses until Athos groaned and sound came rushing back to her ears, making her dizzy for a moment.

 

"Thank God," she breathed, sitting back onto her haunches as Athos pulled himself onto his side with a groan. That was when she saw the blood, and that it was pouring out of the boy beside her.

 

Porthos came crashing back through the trees, his sword in hand and nodding at Aramis. His target had been found. Treville, by this time, was checking the boy. A wound from his own cowardly knife and the shot from the treeline had finished him. the devastation of it seemed to be just enough to deter Renard, when he arrived shortly afterwards, from pursuing his vendetta; for the moment at least.

 

And so it was almost midnight on the third day of their arrival in the village before Charline found herself able to rest properly. The five of them had been offered the best rooms at the inn, in gratitude for helping the villagers and saving the innkeepers daughter, and Porthos, Aramis and Treville gratefully took up the offer and retired to bed in satisfied fatigue. Athos had other plans.

 

"D'Artagnan, let us not stay here," he grabbed her arm gently as they were about to enter the tavern, holding her back from following the other inside.

 

"Where do you want to go?" she asked, saddened by the melancholy exhaustion she could see in his eyes. He blamed himself for everything that happened here, and apparently he needed her.

 

"The house...there's a cottage on the land..." he trailed off and she nodded at him. Clearly he wasn't ready to think about staying in the house, but a building on his land was closer than she had ever though he would go.

 

"Let's go. But let's eat, first?" she smiled softly at him, hoping he would agree as she was concerned that he hadn't been looking after himself, possibly since she had left Paris. She was bemused when a grin spread across his handsome face.

 

"You and your food, d'Artagnan," he laughed. She shoved his arm, affronted.

 

"This isn't about feeding me, Athos!" she said indignantly. He just laughed and walked past her, muttering something that sounded like 'of course not' under his breath. She watched him for a moment then followed him inside, laughing herself in pure happiness that they were here, and they were alright.

 

They ate a quick meal, then Athos thanked the innkeeper for his offer and explained that he would be taking d'Artagnan with him to stay at the Chateau as he wanted to do some work there before they left the next day. The innkeeper understood, but Charline purposefully did not look at the leering faces of Aramis and Porthos.

 

Until they walked towards the door, anyway. Then she turned back and threw them a smug look that had both their jaws dropping open.

 

The horses were saddled and ready to go when Treville appeared next to them. "Athos? I know I am not your captain anymore..."

 

"Sir..."

 

"I am not, Athos. Yet I am ordering you to take some time. Stay here for a week, then come back to Paris. We'll cover for you, for both of you."

 

With that, the man walked away, back towards the tavern and his rest. Just before he reached the doors d'Artagnan called out a soft "thank you", and he raised his hand in recognition.

 

"Come on, Charline. Let's go," Athos said quietly, mounting his horse and waiting until she was astride hers. They moved slowly and without speaking, content to be together and to know that they didn't have to rush. A week was more time along than they had had together before, and d'Artagnan was determined to enjoy every minute of it.

 

And to use to start planning everything that needed to be done so that she could marry Athos, and become herself again. The past three days, and the moments when she thought she has lost him forever, were enough to tell her that she was ready to do this. She could give up this life for the only other one she truly wanted. And she would.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your wish is my command....................................................................................eventually! :D
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> B xx

Their week together lasted four and a half days.

 

It was, of course, pitch black when they arrived at the cottage, the moon offering very little light to see by under the canopy of trees that seemed to cover the way from the stables to the cottage. The torch that they had brought with them was achieving very little. Holding hands with Athos as they stumbled across the grounds, d'Artagnan found herself giggling for the first time in what felt like forever as she listened to Athos grumble and curse with every twig that caught under foot, or every rock that he kicked as he led the way.

 

"Such colourful language, Athos!" she giggled as he bent down to pick up a rock and threw it into the trees at the side of their overgrown path. He stopped and turned to face her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her tightly against him.

 

"Am I upsetting your delicate sensibilities, mademoiselle?" his lips brushed hers and she could feel the smile there. Charline snorted and pulled his hands from her, taking one tightly once again into hers and gesturing with her other hand that he should move. "You seem rather in a hurry, d'Artagnan. Something wrong?"

 

She shoved him and he started walking. "It's been a busy few months, you know. I need to get some sleep, if you don't mind."

 

Suddenly, the cottage loomed out of the darkness and a patch of moonlight shone through a gap in the trees, illuminating it. Charline was still gaping at it when her legs were swept out from under her, making her squeal in surprise. She found herself face to face with Athos, one strong arm wrapped around her back, while the other hugged her knees, Automatically, she wrapped one hand around his neck, the other still holding on tightly to their torch.

 

"If you think for one second that you are going to get any sleep any time soon, d'Artagnan, then perhaps we should take you back to the inn right now."

 

She grinned at him. "Don't you dare!"

 

"Didn't think so," he smiled, then moved to the door of the cottage. They both giggled as he struggled to open the latch with her in his arms, but he was as unwilling to let go of her as she was to be let go of, so they persevered until at last a soft noise and a creaking announced their admitted entry and he stepped across the threshold and into the gloom. He kissed her once, before setting her down and gently taking the torch from her hands. Reaching up, he used the small flame to light two torches that hung on the wall beside the door, before heading further into the room, towards what d'Artagnan quickly saw was a fireplace. A row of well-used candles were lit, and then Athos dropped to his knees and looked into the fireplace. While he did so, d'Artagnan slowly walked around the room, taking in everything she could see in the darkness of the large space.

 

A large wooden table and benches told her that at one time this cottage had housed a whole family. A rocking chair sat on one side of the fireplace, while the rest of it was surrounded by various pieces, many comfortable looking cushions scattered around. Everything in the room looked homemade.

 

A loud squeak caught d'Artagnan's attention and she looked up to see Athos standing, having lit a fire and pushed the grate back in over the flame. He was standing, looking into the flames as if admiring his handy work, so she took a few moments to admire her future husband. Her eyes were raking up his back when he turned to face her, unsurprised to find her looking at him so carefully. He just cocked an eyebrow at her and smiled, and for once she didn't even blush as he caught her. He was hers, she was his, and they were alone. She could look as much as she wanted.

 

She could touch too.

 

As if they both had the same thought, the started walking towards each other, eyes never looking away as they approached. As they reached each other it was if neither wanted to break the spell for even a moment. Instead they just stood and smiled softly at each other, until finally Charline's eyes flickered away from his, and the temptation to touch became too much. She watched her own hands as they reached out and began tackling buckles and straps, keen to see him being revealed slowly in front of her. Athos seemed to know what she needed, as he made no move to help her, or to reciprocate.

 

When at last she pushed his shirt from his shoulders, leaving him in nothing but his underwear, she reached out and took his hands in her right, while her left reached slowly out to trace up his stomach, his chest, and to his shoulder.. She lifted the hand she held slowly to her lips, intending to kiss it gently, but as their hands reached her face she choked on a sudden sob and found herself pressing their hands to her eyes as if she could stop the flood of tears that instantly covered her face.

 

The fingers of Athos' free hand threaded through her hair and he pulled her tightly against him. She let him pull his hand free from her grasp and she wrapped her arms tightly round his neck, sobbing into his shoulder as he ran his hands up and down her back.

 

"It's alright," he whispered, tucking his head down to talk directly into her ear. "I'm fine, we're together, my love. It's alright."

 

She couldn't catch a breath to answer him as she continued to weep, and instead just tightened her arms and buried her head deeper into his shoulder. It had taken her by surprise, but she was in no doubt about why she was feeling such devastation. Athos seemed to have a good idea as well.

 

"I'm alive, d'Artagnan. You are here with me, and we are both fine. I'm alive. I promise you, I am unhurt. I love you. I love you," he continued to whisper reassurances to her, tightening his own hold until she felt completely safe. For once, she didn't care how much of a crying  _girl_ she had been. These last weeks, and the last few days, had been too much, and they had came much too close to losing each other.

 

"I'm sorry, Athos," she finally managed to whisper, her voice wrecked.

 

"Hey," he replied, lifting her face gently from his shoulder and bringing her forehead to meet his. "No apologies. I'm not doing particularly well myself, after all."

 

Charline opened her eyes and pulled her head back a couple of inches, eyes widening when she saw the tracks of tears on Athos' cheeks. With a quiet cry, she pulled his face to hers and brought their lips together in a desperate kiss, both of them quickly gasping into the other's mouth as both their bodies and their emotions smashed together.

 

"I love you, Athos," she murmured against him. "Don't do that to me again; promise me."

 

He didn't reply, just kissed her again, and she knew he said nothing because they still had some danger to face. They wouldn't be free completely until they had dealt with the threats that still hung over them, but she still needed him to say it. Even if just for now.

 

"Please," she begged, sweeping her hands down his naked back. "Please, promise me you won't leave me."

 

"D'Artagnan," he said gravely, pulling her head back once again to make sure she was looking at him. "I swear to you, Charline, that I will never leave you as long as it is in my power. We have a plan, and we are going to stick to that, come what may. I promise you, that you and I will be together, in this life and the next."

 

This time, when she brought their mouths together, she deepened the kiss immediately, her hands going to her own clothes and starting to unfasten everything she could blindly get her hands on. Athos' hands joined her, until she was as naked as he was, standing before him in nothing but her boy's underwear and the bindings she was looking forward to removing from her life forever. They paused, taking a step back and letting their gazes sweep over each other, both suddenly aware that they hadn't been alone like this from some time.

 

Tears were forgotten as they sank to the floor in front of the warming fire, content to spend their first night here. There were no more words; everything they needed to say was achieved through hands, mouths and soon their entire bodies as they took their time showing each other how they felt, and what they had missed in all the time they had been forced apart.

 

~~~

 

For their first day together, they barely left the cottage. Athos left to bring water, and to arrange for food and refreshments to be delivered to them, while Charline made a start on airing out the rest of the rooms, but they rest of the time they went nowhere, and for most of that they avoided clothing.

 

It was bliss.

 

D'Artagnan found herself dreaming that this could be what their future was like. They could live somewhere like this; in this cosy building, in the peace and quiet to the countryside. If Athos never wanted to repair his former home and live properly once more as the Comte, she could be perfectly happy like this. Just the two of them, until whatever children they were blessed with came along. Their friends would visit, of course - would maybe, even move here when they chose to retire from the musketeer life - but mostly, the two of them would live together like this. Quiet, and blissfully happy.

 

Athos chuckled when he finally persuaded her to reveal what she was daydreaming about. Charline turned in his arms on the bed they had now been in for several hours, and lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at him. It didn't stop him laughing.

 

"Don't look at me like that, my love," he said, leaning forward to kiss her on the nose as she refused to give up her scowl. "You and I will never live quietly, and there will be days that are not remotely blissful."

 

"You think we won't be happy?" she was shocked.

 

He smiled fondly at her, rolling his eyes a little. "You, my d'Artagnan, are believing in a fantasy." He tightened his hold on her when she started trying to wiggle out of his grip. "I think I will never have been happier in my life than when we start our life together properly, and I think if it did not happen then I would never be happy again. But I also think that you know as well as I do that you and I are both too stubborn, I am too prone to bouts of melancholy and you are far too hot heated for us ever to live in peaceful bliss for more than a week at a time."

 

She looked at him in silence for another minute, trying not to smile back at the grin he was giving her that was lighting up his entirely beautiful face. When she felt herself begin to break she turned once more in his arms, huffing loudly as she went, and causing him to laugh heartily at her.

 

"You are proving my point beautifully, Charline. Thank you," he said as he pulled her body flush to his, nuzzling into the back of her neck and placing soft kisses across her shoulders. She tried valiantly to resist for another few seconds, but as his hand swept down her side to grip firmly at her hip she allowed herself to relax into him, turning her head for an awkward kiss that soon became heated as he rolled her until she was lying on top of him.

 

"Oh well," she murmured between kisses. "Let's just pretend this week then."

 

They laughed together until their gasped breaths no longer allowed it. 

 

~~~

 

The sun was just beginning to drop from its highest point on the afternoon of the fourth day when they heard the approach of footsteps. They were lying on the grass outside the cottage, Athos' head resting on Charline's stomach as they both lost themselves in some books. Charline looked up to see who was approaching, expecting to see one of the men that Athos had employed the day before to begin working on the chateau. Athos sat up before she had even registered who was standing before her.

 

"Porthos?" Athos stood quickly, while d'Artagnan lay way she was, trying to decipher the look on her friend's face.

 

"Athos, Charline," the musketeer nodded at them, his voice gruff. "I'm sorry to do this, to ask this of you, but...I..."

 

"What's happened?" Charline was on her feet before she realised; the wrecked sound of Porthos' voice was enough to bring her out of her brief stupor.

 

"The Queen, she...Aramis..."

 

"Porthos," Athos said sharply, taking him by the shoulders. "Spit it out!"

 

D'Artagnan watched as Porthos gave himself a mental shake. He looked exhausted. "I'm sorry, but you have to come back to Paris. The Queen - Rochefort tried to kill her, Athos."

 

"Oh my God!" Charline gasped.

 

"And Aramis?" Athos' voice was stern.

 

"He saved her, we both did, but Milady de Winter, she has fallen out of favour with the King, and she said something to him about Armais, and about his son..." Porthos trailed off.

 

"Porthos," Athos said steadily. "Did she tell the King that the Dauphin may have been fathered by Aramis?"

 

Porthos nodded as Charline flicked her gaze to stare at Athos. Aramis' secret that Athos shared? It couldn't possibly be true!

 

"I don't know where she got that idea from, Athos, but the King flew into a rage and took Aramis' saving her from Rochefort as a sign of an affair between them, and he's had him arrested for treason."

 

Athos dropped his hands from Porthos' shoulders and rubbed his face tiredly. "I have no idea where she got her information from either, Porthos, but unfortunately it could be true." He ignored the shocked looks on their faces and continued. "There has been no ongoing affair, however, and we must discredit this information before the King decides to have Aramis executed."

 

"And the Queen," Porthos said quietly.

  
"What?" Charline whispered. "He's had the queen arrested?"

 

Porthos nodded miserably. There was a silence while they all took in the full gravity of their situation. Athos began to pace as he worked it through in his head, and the other two watched him helplessly.

 

"Where is Milady de Winter?" he asked, suddenly.

 

"No one has seen her since the King dismissed her from the palace."

 

"And Rochefort?"

 

"Dead."

 

A few more paces, then Athos stopped and faced them. "I am sorry that I have kept this from you both. We agreed to keep you safe from this knowledge, and we have no way of knowing who the baby's father is. The King cannot prove it, either. We must head to Paris immediately, and work on discrediting Anne. If the King has dismissed her then she is not spreading more poison in his ear, and we must take this as our chance," He looked at d'Artagnan, his eyes softening. "I am afraid we shall have to cut short our break."

 

"I'll go and make sure your horses have been saddled. I asked for it to be done when I left mine at the house," Porthos said quietly before slipping away.

 

Athos stepped forward and reached out his arms to pull d'Artagnan into them. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice muffled in her hair.

 

"I am not angry, Athos. I understand why you kept Aramis' dalliance to yourself," she turned her head and kissed his cheek, before pulling out of his arms and heading to the cottage. "Come on. I have to go back to being Charles for a while."

 

As she dressed and Athos packed up their few belongings, Charline's thoughts were in a whirl. She was shocked, anxious, very much scared for Aramis, and angry at both him and their Queen for putting themselves in such danger. At the back of all of this, however, there was a huge amount of excitement.

 

She fastened her bindings, determined that this would be the last time she would wear them. They would find a way to get Milady de Winter out of their lives for good, and their secret would disappear with her. Charles d'Artagnan would die as part of their plan, and Charline would take his place at Athos' side. One way or another, she was going to find a way to make it happen; whatever it took.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I won’t even bother apologising, cos it’s embarrassing. Just heed my promise that I will finish this – and reasonably soon!  
> Very different chapter here – a lot of it is from Athos’ point of view, which hasn’t happened before. Let me know what you think!  B xx

On their arrival in Paris they went straight to Athos' lodgings, finding De Treville waiting for them impatiently. He stood abruptly from where he had been perched on one of Athos' old chairs, head resting in his hands as he waited. He stepped forward and grabbed Athos by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eye.

"Is any of it true, Athos?  _Could_  any of it be?"

Charline watched as Athos stared back at him steadily for a few moments, clearly weighing up what to tell their captain. Eventually, he gave a short nod, and De Treville dropped his hands with a sigh.

"Heaven, help us," he muttered, moving back to his chair.

Porthos nudged d'Artagnan and Athos into the room, closing the door firmly behind him and making straight for one of Athos' bottles of wine, which were always much more full these days. Athos moved to sit on his bed, and Charline followed and sat next to him, quietly taking his hand in his, and leaving them to rest on his lap.

"There is no affair," Athos said gruffly. "They recognised their error and left it at that. I was the only one who knew."

"Well, be that as it may," de Treville, answered. "We are the ones who must right the situation. How do we convince the King that it is false, before he has them killed?"

"We must find a way to convince him that Milady was not to be trusted," Porthos said.

"Yes, but how do we do that in a way that will force him to act? It must be done publicly, otherwise the King will never admit that he was taken in by her. He does not like to look a fool," Athos replied.

Porthos snorted. "Then he should stop leaving his room."

"I shall choose to ignore the treason that you just uttered, Porthos," de Treville said dryly.

Porthos just raised his wine bottle in a gesture of thanks and took a long drink.

"Whatever we do, " d'Artagnan said quietly. "We must do it quickly, and we must use it to get rid of Milady for good. She's a threat to all our necks."

Athos squeezed her hand gently and she felt saddened by the guilt that she knew he still carried for bringing Milady into her life. But she knew that the woman would never have hated her so much if Athos didn't love her, and so she took the experiences she had had with Milady and accepted them as giving her Athos, which she would not trade for anything. She squeezed his hand back, and he relaxed slightly beside her.

"The first thing we must do is persuade the King that he cannot execute without a trial. We must keep Aramis and the Queen safe until we can convince the King that the whole thing was a malicious lie from a former lover, and that the Queen has always been loyal. However untrue it may be," Athos said.

"I will speak with the King. He may listen to me, with no one else left to advise him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

That had been the beginning of it all, and this is where it had brought them. A graveside in the musketeers’ plot. The eulogy flowing while they tried to prop each other up, standing amongst their fellow men, heads bowed and hats held to their chests. It was raining, it was cold, and nothing would ever be the same.

The captain’s relationship with the King had proved to be their most valuable asset, and with Athos’ permission, he had given the King a version of the truth. The King now knew the identity of his former mistress, and that her marriage to Athos had been one of greed and lies. It had taken several hours to persuade the King to hold execution on Aramis and the Queen, and the help of Constance’s friend, the King’s doctor, to persuade the King that it could be declared absolutely that the dauphin was his son, and that anyone could see it in the child’s face, never mind with the medical proof the doctor could offer.

It had been Charline’s idea to include Constance and the doctor in their plans. She trusted her friend, who trusted the doctor, and both would be required for the last stage of the plan. If everything went accordingly.

With an execution stayed for the moment, de Treville persuaded the King that the priority of the musketeers must be to capture and interrogate Milady de Winter, as if she was indeed lying in an effort to affect the King, then the woman had committed treason and must be suitably punished. As always, the King proved eager enough to rid himself of anyone who had made him look stupid or done him wrong, and when Treville explained that she had previously attempted to murder d’Artagnan, his vanity was appealed to that anyone who dared to attack his guards was attacking the King, and must be executed. With Treville showing such devotion to the King, that he would risk coming here to speak to him about such a sensitive subject after being dismissed from his post, the King had promised to reinstate the captain if he could prove his words to him, and save him from the threat of this woman.

(Finally, the King had found a way of reinstating his trusted captain without having to admit that he had been wrong in dismissing him on the say of Rochefort in the first place.)

That was the first stage.

The next stage included all of the rest of their plans, although slightly altered by the king and his paranoia, and soon everything would be over.

It did not feel like that to Athos, though.

The King had insisted that while the musketeers executed their plan to capture the wanted fugitive, he must have the highest protection with him, and that meant the best of Treville’s musketeers at his side. And that meant Athos.

He would hear of nothing else but Athos and, having managed to persuade the King everything he had managed to so far, the captain did not want to push matters, and so Athos found himself at the King’s side, and trying very hard to rein in his temper.

He was meant to be out there with his men, and with d’Artagnan. He was meant to be part of the jail break that freed Aramis, he was meant to be part of this group of musketeers that found themselves on the wrong side of the law, and part of the battle they had staged with the rest of the garrison. He was meant to be there when Milady was lured out of hiding to witness the downfall of Athos and d’Artagnan for herself, and he was meant to be there when she was finally brought to justice.

Instead, he had to wait here, watching the King building another of his ridiculous boat models as if he had no care in the world, not seeing if anything was going to plan, and not being able to make sure that his friends were safe, that his future wife was safe. He wouldn’t be there when Milady was finally brought to justice, the decision having been made that she could not be allowed to be brought before the King to face her fate. They couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t made any comments about d’Artagnan’s real identity yet, and they couldn’t take the chance that she would use her final bit of information to end them all.

Mostly, he was worried that he couldn’t be there with Charline if she faced Milady once again, and found himself praying to a God he had not had much faith in for some time that it would not happen. He had to hope that the musketeers they had selected to stay out of the ‘battle’ and wait for her would find her before she got anywhere near his love, and take her straight to the captain as planned.

All of this was going on, all of these plans and all of these deceptions, and he was here, frustrated and, yes, scared.

It had been two days.

The King was just beginning to grumble about his lunch when the doors to the huge bright chamber were opened, and Treville entered. He was alone. And he did not look at Athos.

“Treville!” the King exclaimed. “You have news?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“It is done?”

“Yes, your majesty. The lady in question was captured, and interrogated by myself this morning. She signed a confession stating that she had lied in an attempt to have the Queen executed for treason. Aramis was her chosen target simply because he was here, and a friend of Athos.”

The King pondered his ship for a few moments, saying nothing.

“She has been executed?”

“Yes, your majesty. As instructed by your majesty, she was immediately executed for treason. Your own doctor pronounced her dead.”

Athos felt dizzy. It had worked! She was truly gone! For what seemed like eternities of his life that woman had haunted his very existence, had ruined everything for him for years, and almost taken Charline from him, more than once. She deserved to die for her crimes the first time he had tried to execute her, but since then she had proved herself more evil and more dangerous that Athos had ever believed her then. He could hardly believe that her malevolent influence was finally gone, and would leave his life in peace.

“I took the liberty, your majesty, of sending the pardons you signed some days ago straight away. The Queen should be returning to the palace, immediately.”

For the first time, Athos saw a flash of emotion on the King’s face, and it looked to him like fear.

“Do you think, Treville…” he trailed off, looking at the captain with a strangely childlike expression on his face.

Trevilled sighed. “The Queen is a loving and understanding woman, your majesty. I am sure that she will understand, when you explain it all to her.”

“Yes,” the King smiled. “I am sure she shall. My Queen loves me. And after all, I did not send her to the gaol. She was kept in the manner she has become accustomed.”

“Indeed, your majesty. But might I suggest, that you have her child ready to see her when she arrives.”

“Ah, yes. Excellent idea, Treville.”

The King made to move away from the table he was working on, finally, but Treville stopped him. This time, he glanced quickly at Athos.

“Before you go, your majesty. There is one other thing.”

“Yes, yes, Treville. What is it?” The King frowned at him, clearly confused as to what else the captain of his guards could have to say.

“I’m afraid, sir, that there was an accident during the execution of the mission.”

“And accident? What do you mean?”

“One of my men was caught in the crossfire of the gun battle we had to stage, and I’m afraid he didn’t pull through sir.”

“Oh. That is a tad careless, Treville. Although I am sorry to lose one of my guards. Who was the musketeer?”

Another glance at Athos, who squeezed his eyes shut.

“It was d’Artagnan, sir. D’Artagnan is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…yeah. Thought I’d come back and leave you with that little nugget! Hope you enjoyed. B xx


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